


Scarlet

by Red Whip the Destoyer of Law (tajita_chan)



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accents, Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Sheriff Stilinski/Peter Hale, Crossdressing, Cum Eating, D/s, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Humor, Implied Bestiality, Knotting, Licking, M/M, Mating, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Jackson, Other, PackDaddy!Derek, PackMom!Stiles, Pet Names, Pining, Possessive Derek, Puppy Piles, Rimming, Top Derek, Top Derek Hale, Twilight References, animalistic/feral/possessive behaviors, courting, fabulous drag queen OCs, poly!pack, potential OOC, slight supernatural crossover - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 75,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tajita_chan/pseuds/Red%20Whip%20the%20Destoyer%20of%20Law
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fed up with being taken for granted and tired of feeling rejected, Stiles starts to pull away from the pack he's not sure he's even a part of in the first place. Along the way of building up his self image, he meets some new fabulously flamboyant friends and rediscovers a side of himself he'd forgotten about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maroon

**Author's Note:**

> This turned into a monster. All I wanted to write was smut, dammit. 
> 
> Okay so this is basically a tribute fic to all my favorite Sterek headcanons, fic tropes and kinks out there (and there's a lot) as well as me venting my feelings on behalf of Stiles as well as for Stiles through Stiles. Soooo this might take awhile. XD 
> 
> I can't write fight scenes – emotional or physical - worth a damn, but gawds, the porn is gonna be so dirty.
> 
> First TW fic. Be gentle. D:

Stiles is tired. 

 

He is so, so _tired_. 

 

Between fighting the supernatural, lying constantly to his dad at home, and trying to keep up with schoolwork, he is exhausted. He feels worn down, overwhelmed. Under-appreciated. 

 

Scott is still pining over Allison, trying to make things work with her which means no time for Stiles, his best friend.

 

Jackson and Lydia are in the same boat, making Stiles give up on his ten year crush on her a while back when he realized she truly does love Jackson, though he will always think of Lydia with great admiration and that she deserves way more than that douche nozzle. 

 

Besides, he has someone else in mind. Had, anyway.

 

Danny only tolerates him because Danny's a nice guy.

 

Erica, Issac and Boyd are back with Peter and Derek.

 

And Derek? 

 

Stiles could feel the first pinpricks behind his eyes at the reminder of the Alpha werewolf, and hastily blinks them away to concentrate on the road. 

 

Derek said he wasn't pack, and it had hurt far worse than it should have.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They'd been arguing the moment he stepped out of his jeep before the pack was due to meet for their weekly training session that Stiles wasn't invited to. Again. Which was fine, considering - you know - he was human, so he usually just invites himself along. 

 

After running the Alpha pack out of town and then defeating their latest creature of the week – in which Stiles' favorite limited edition Batman shirt ends up in _shreds_ (he wanted to cry the moment it happened, and a second after that Derek had torn the creature's throat out right in front of him, _with his teeth_ ) - Derek had stepped up training for the betas to extreme levels. 

 

Stiles hadn't liked that, especially when Scott - who had finally agreed to and accepted being part of Derek's pack - had come to his house looking like he'd been through a fight with a horde of evil possessed lawnmowers, run over by a 18 wheeler, and then that same 18 wheeler had backed up to run him over again before parking on top of him after that week's pack meeting (which Stiles couldn't attend to due to the ever increasing mountain of homework he had to finish). 

 

“How the hell is this helping them? 'Oh, let's just shred them up on my claws! Break their bones repeatedly with my mighty furry fists of fury, and make them heal slowly in agony on the forest floor to make them stronger!' Yeah, okay. What kind of half assed training regime is that? At this rate, you won't have betas to train!”

 

“Shut up, Stiles. What would you know about pack dynamics?” Derek had growled back, fists clenching at his sides as Stiles continued his angry tirade despite the fact that the wolf's green eyes began to bleed red, and the muscles of his arms bulged out enticingly...No! Now was not the time for ogling your new forever-shirtless love interest, Stilinski, so focus!

 

God, why is it always the impossibly unreachable ones he falls head over ass for?

 

He shakes his head and gets his head back in the game.

 

“I know damn well plenty! Apparently more than you do because you'd know that packs, both wolves and werewolves, need more than violent force and strong arming to survive. They need care and nurturing. They need support, a kind hand,” he flails his hands violently, “They need to bond, dammit!”

 

“They are bonding!” Derek had roared back, his jaws snapping and his fangs extended menacingly.

 

“No, not like this, not enough to grow, to thrive,” he had said undeterred, though Derek could probably hear the jackrabbit beating of his heart, “They need to bond with _you_. You know, since your their leader and all? The one they should feel they can turn to in times of crisis? Ring a bell?” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, they need your help, your guidance, but this isn't the way to stabilize and establish a good pack, Derek, and you know it. Even Jackson and Scott are starting to get along. You need to be a team player and open up in order for this to work, as much as they are for each other!”

 

At this point, the older man had heard enough and spun on his heel to storm into the house, which the pack was almost done renovating. “I don't _need_ to do anything, and I certainly don't need you, a _useless human outsider_ ,to tell me how to run my own goddamn _**pack**_ ,” he spat the words out viciously before throwing open the old front door with such force it bounced back from the wall and broke in half as he disappeared inside, leaving Stiles speechless outside.

 

Well, then.

 

If that's how he feels... 

 

Stiles doesn't remember getting into his jeep, but he'd driven away in a numb haze, feeling absolutely shattered.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time he gets home Stiles rushes up to his room, ignoring his father's concerned calls and throws himself onto his bed. He grabs a hold of his comforter and rolls himself into a burrito facing the wall. He is a depressed, lonesome, _human_ burrito but at least now he's warm. Fall is here and winter was just around the corner, so it was getting kinda chilly even in northern California.

 

A few moments later, he hears his dad's footsteps coming up the stairs and the tentative knock on his door. 

 

He groans but his dad enters the room anyway and sits down next to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“Wanna talk about it?” John asks, running a warm calloused hand through his son's soft prickly hair. 

 

Stiles had let it grown out a little, about half an inch from his buzz cut peach fuzz, so now his head looks like a hedgehog but that's okay. Hedgehogs are cute, just like him!

 

Oh, who was he kidding.

 

He turns onto his other side and curls around his dad, snuggling up to him like he hadn't since his mother's passing. 

 

“Don't really wanna talk at all, surprise surprise,” he mumbles, but burrows closer, “'M sorry, dad.”

 

“For what?” 

 

He sighs, “For...everything. Making you lose your job, even though you got it back again no thanks to me, lying to you all the time...but it wasn't because I wanted to, I swear. I just...I needed to help Scott with some things, and they weren't my secrets to tell, but I _promise_ you now that it won't happen again. It's over,” he declares, because it's true. He is done, sick and tired about all things werewolf. They apparently didn't need him any longer once he'd worn out his _usefulness,_ and he never even got a measly little thank you for all he's done for them.

 

From now on, he's going to focus on getting his grades back up, applying to colleges next year, and taking care of himself and his dad, like he should have done from the beginning before all this supernatural drama invaded his life.

 

“Okay,” his dad nods, “I'm glad you told me, glad you're talking to me again, son. It was all I'd wanted.” Stiles couldn't take the sad, tired look in his dad's eyes anymore and sat up to wrap him in a bear hug. 

 

“Love you, dad,” his voice cracks a little, but that's okay because his dad's does too.

 

“Love you, too.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Things don't immediately go back to how they were before, but it does get a lot better. 

 

Now that he's excommunicated himself with all things outside of school and home, he's a lot less stressed. It feels like a weight as been lifted from him now that he and his dad are working on building their father-son relationship to its former glory. 

 

It's nice to see his dad smiling at him again instead of his disappointed frown – granted, it was an exasperated but fond smile, but he'll take what he can get at this point. 

 

Stiles is determined to make sure that his dad never has to feel let down again, or at the very least make it a rare occurrence. 

 

He's taken to lining his window with mountain ash and refortifying his belief every morning and every evening to make sure it wards away any werewolves from entering his bedroom. Just in case.

 

At school with the beginning of their senior year, he starts to avoid the pack as much as he can, only listening to Scott going on and on about Allison with half an ear now that he's decided not to care as much as before. Not that anyone notices anything different with him anyway, and if they did he'd just ignore them.

 

He starts bringing his own lunch in and eating it in an empty classroom or in the library while he does his homework and looking at colleges, and now that he's switched his ADHD pills over to a new natural alternative medication, it's turning out to be a lot better when Adderall just wasn't cutting it for him anymore. 

 

He's focusing better and tries harder in lacrosse to make his dad proud, shocking everyone on the field when he manages to coordinate himself and sneak past the werewolves on the team - since he knew their weak spots - as well as Danny in the net to score a goal during practice. 

 

It makes him feel good, which is not something he can say easily nowadays, and even on a good day his self-esteem has never been particularly high. (It's not like he's ugly or deformed, he knows that, but being constantly surrounded by physical supernatural perfection all the time takes its toll).

 

On Friday, a week after all... _that_ , Stiles just made himself comfortable in the library, ready to look over what Standford has to offer again when Lydia struts in on her cute teal back-sling wedges and makes a beeline towards the table he's using. To say Stiles is surprised would have been an understatement.

 

“Uh...Lydia?” he asks hesitantly when it looks like Lydia isn't going to moving anytime soon, munching on a granny smith apple as she pulls out her math and chemistry notes.

 

He flushes when all she does is raise a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him and sighs, “Look, I'm not going to pretend I know exactly what you're dealing with right now, but I can make a pretty damn good observation. Whatever it is with the pack you can tell me later, if you want. I just wanted you to know that, okay? Plus Jackson and I are fighting again and I've missed having someone finally intelligent enough to have serious discussions with.”

 

Warmth suddenly floods Stiles and he gives her a real smile, making her give him one in return. A genuine smile from Lydia Martin, who had apparently noticed his absence and came looking for him, who wants to be friends, at the very least study buddies, with one Stiles Stilinski. 

 

Today's the happiest day of his life.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later that night, Stiles wishes his dad a good night at work with some leftover veggie lasagna in a lunchbox for him as the Sheriff leaves for the graveyard shift. 

 

“Oh yeah, Dad, and just to let you know, I think I'll be going out tonight.”

 

At that John raises an eyebrow, making Stiles shift nervously. 

 

He knows he hasn't been out in a while, and when he did it usually ended up a bad idea, but did it really warrant that look? “What?”

 

“Nothing. Just...don't get into any trouble and be back by midnight, all right? Text me when you're home.”

 

Stiles' shoulders lose their tension and he grins, happy that his dad is trusting him again with the small stuff and that things are looking like they're getting back to normal. 

 

“Yessir!” he mock salutes, making his dad snort. The Sheriff gently cuffs him on the head and rubs at his hair before heading out. Stiles closes the door, the smile firmly stuck on his face.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Around 8 o'clock he drives his beloved jeep over to Jungle, his mind set. 

 

Okay, so this is it. He is going to figure out if he's attractive to gay guys and if gay guys are attractive to him once and for all. 

 

After lunch with Lydia, the girl he had held a steadfast torch for since kindergarten, the girl he thought he was in love with, he feels like he needed to see where he fell regarding his sexuality. 

 

Because aside from Lydia, he doesn't think he's felt anything remotely as strong for any other girl after puberty hit. Lydia just happens to be the prettiest and smartest of them all so he fixated on that, like she was a celebrity. Someone to put on a pedestal. 

 

It occurred to him during lunch that he's never really thought of Lydia in a sexual way, not past making out and some heavy petting. He's relieved to find out that they work better as friends now anyway. 

 

But boys? He'll admit he's checked out his teammates a time or two in the locker room. Whether it was just male admiration or something deeper, he has no clue, which was why he was in his Jeep trying to muster up the courage to just get out and find out if this is a gay thing or a bi thing or just a strange phase he's going through.

 

Though he admits he's had some pretty dirty locker room fantasies. Amongst others. With boys. 

 

Safe to say, he's really confused.

 

Maybe it's just a Derek thing.

 

He shakes his head. Nope, not going there tonight, because if he goes there tonight, he'll go through all the things that are different with Derek than they were with Lydia, like how all those muscles made him feel in deeper ways Lydia's curves never did, and if that sexy stubble would hurt or tickle against his skin, and _god_ , those _eyes_... 

 

Anyway. Derek Feelings. They go beyond what Lydia Feelings ever were. He'll deal with that issue later.

 

Time to face the music and get his answers.

 

Of course once he somehow manages to get inside pass the bouncer, it's harder than it seems. Loud pulsing techno blares from the speakers and flashing lights were everywhere.

 

Meandering and squeezing his way past writhing masculine bodies on the dance floor, Stiles fights his way to a thankfully empty stool at the bar and puts his head down for a moment. 

 

Okay, just a small break and a soda will calm his nerves enough to do this. 

 

Right. 

 

An amused chuckle close by urges him to lift his head and he's greeted by the sight of laughing cocoa brown eyes and a dazzling white smile of the bartender. The guy kind of looked like an older version of Taylor Lautner with his russet skin, messy black spikes of hair and tight black muscle shirt showing off his impressive biceps.

 

“Rough night?” the bartender asks good-naturedly and Stiles blushes but gives him a weak grin.

 

“You could say that. How could you tell?” he jests back and sits up straight again. Ha, straight. In a gay club. The jokes just keep coming. Ha! _Coming_.

 

“Intuition,” the guy says, leaning across the bar towards Stiles, “So what will it be? Butt Sex? Screaming Orgasm? Blue Balls? Slippery Nipple?”

 

At the deer-in-headlights look on Stiles' gaping face, the bartender cracks up before pulling out a glass and pours some ice and a can of coke into it, then places it in front of his flustered customer on a coaster.

 

“Maybe just a coke on the rocks to start with?”

 

At this, Stiles snaps out of his daze and closes his mouth to cough into his hand, totally embarrassed.

 

“Ah, haaah...Drinks. That was what you were talking about. Right. The hot bartender was totally not hitting on me. Got it.” He takes a sip in an attempt to hid how red his face is. He fails, epically.

 

The bartender grins, “Aw, don't sell yourself short, cutie. If I didn't have a boyfriend and you were legal, I'd totally tap that.” He winks and chuckles at Stiles astonished face.

 

“R-Really?” Guess that answers his question.

 

“Well, you certainly are cute even with the geek chic fashion you got going on.” He gestures at Stiles' Marvel T-shirt under his usual plaid overshirt. “I'm sure you'll find someone here that adores that particular flavor of twink. What's your name by the way?”

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Cool, I'm Jake.”

 

Remembering his earlier thought, Stiles couldn't help the snort of laughter that escapes and Jake rolls his eyes at him.

 

“I know, I know. I get it all the time. It doesn't help that my boyfriend's name is Edward either.” 

 

The two break into laughter and conversation flows easily from there as well as the drinks.

 

Jake doesn't seem to care that he is obviously underage but keeps from being heavy handed with the cocktails he has Stiles try, waving his hand in dismissal when Stiles gets concerned about how he was going to pay for all the drinks.

 

“They're on the house. I haven't had this much fun at work that didn't lead to the bedroom in ages.”

 

So Stiles ends up befriending the bartender. Awesome. 

 

A couple hours later and he's pleasantly buzzed, nursing the last of his Sex on the Beach as Jake tends to another patron.

 

He's fiddling around with the straw in his mouth when someone big presses up against his back. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees two beefy arms boxing him in against the bar. What-? “Uh...”

 

“Hey, sweetheart. Wanna dance?” is breathed into his ear and he can smell the beer on the guy's breath.

 

“No. No thanks,” he squeaks out before he's spun around on his stool and – holy shit this guy is built like a body builder and all up in his space. He is all up in Stiles' grill right now and since he's certainly not Derek - who he does _not_ want to think about in a time like this - Stiles is not okay with this! Even if he's attractive in a douchey kind of way. Like Jackson. Okay, so that's not someone Stiles wants to be thinking about either, or _ever_.

 

“Hey! The guy said no so back off already, Brett,” Jake says from behind the bar, and from his tone of voice his new friend is tense.

 

“Why don't you just shut the fuck up, Jacob,” Brett sneers, “Be a good little puppy and go back to that sparkling fairy boytoy of y-”

 

“That. Iz. _Enough._ ” 

 

At the sound of the powerful, booming voice that comes thundering over the music, Brett jerks away from him like a hot tamale and _oh my god_ , this tall caramel-skinned Amazon goddess descends from the heavens dressed in a sexy leather catsuit to save Stiles, and she's about unleash a can of whoop-ass and take names from the poisonous look on her gorgeous painted face.

 

Brett seems to know it too, so he turns and flees with his tail between his legs, leaving Jake to laugh long and loud, mockingly calling after him, “So long, motherfucker!”

 

With the imminent threat to his person swiftly taken cared of, Stiles sags against the bar and sighs in relief. 

 

“Oh, _man_. Dude. That...that was kind of intensely _not_ okay.”

 

“Indeed,” the Amazon goddess chimes in with a hand on her cocked hip, flicking her honey blonde waves over a broad shoulder, “Are you all right, _cherie_?” 

 

Stiles grins, “I am now, thanks to you. My Amazon heroine,” he swoons and bats his eyelashes, making the statuesque beauty chuckle in that dark smoky voice of hers. 

 

“You are a sweet boy,” she coos and scratches him lightly on the head with her long golden nails that match her glittering eye shadow. Stiles' grin turn a little shy at that. 

 

“I'm so sorry about that, Stiles,” Jake says as he comes out from behind the bar, looking so guilty that Stiles just wanted to snuggle up to him to make those remorseful puppy eyes go away, “I knew that good for nothing ex of mine was a jackass, but I didn't think he'd ever do _that_. Forgive me?”

 

“Of course, dude. It wasn't your fault,” he replies easily and Jakes sweeps him into a hug. Stiles returns it enthusiastically, pats and rubs his back - because his hugs are _awesome,_ thank you very much and Jake was a 100% hottie - before pulling away to ask, “Sooo, does that mean I get free drinks all the time now? Is that how this works?”

 

That does the trick and Jake laughs again, punching him on the shoulder playfully and Stiles fake whines and rubs the spot with a pout, “You're gonna get me arrested, punk, but we'll see.”

 

“Hm,” the blonde bombshell hides a smile behind her hand, “I am going to steal this one away from you, Jacob. I wish for him to meet ze girls.”

 

Jake nods with a wave of his hand as he gets back to work. “Sure thing, Dom. Hey Stiles, don't let the ladies eat you alive, okay? That bunch can be downright scary sometimes, so watch out!” 

 

“W-What?”

 

“Don't be a stranger!” The bartender sends him off with a gleeful smile as Dom leads an apprehensive Stiles away from the bar with a steady manicured hand on his back. 

 

Oh, _man_ , was he going to his doom meeting the 'ladies' or what? The last time he was here, the queens he met were really nice. He and Mystique still text each other every week or so. Were these girls going to bite his head off like praying mantises or...or claw his eyes out if he says the wrong thing? (And c'mon he's not gonna kid himself. He so totally would even if it was completely by accident.)

 

It turns out he's worried for nothing. 

 

Even though Sugar Mama 'just wanted to eat him up!' when Wonder Woman Dominique first introduces him to her friends, Stiles is pretty sure that was a good thing while the fiery, vivacious Anita Mann carries on gushing about the color of his eyes (“Look how bright they are! Like gems!”) in her thick Spanish accent. Amber D. Lights and Crystal Ballz both bitch under their breaths about how soft his skin is and ask him what products he uses to keep it that way as they molest his arms, and the Gemini twins Cassie and Paula both coo over his pretty eyelashes and beauty marks. 

 

So that's how Stiles ends up with a bunch of drag queens fawning over him. It's not half bad.

 

He thinks he can grow to love Jungle. Ha! _Grow_. Never let it be said that Stiles Stilinski doesn't have the jokes.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

With a few more drinks to go around, Stiles is feeling content and sleepy. He's leaning against Dominique, resting his head on her shoulder as she pets his hair and gently scratches his scalp and Stiles just wants to _purr_.

 

Dom chuckles with delight, “You are **adorable** , _comme un petit chaton_ _._ Tell me, Stiles, have you ever considered a step on ze _wild_ side?”

 

“Huh?” he mutters drowsily. 

 

“What Dom means, sweet thang, is if you ever thought about dressin' in drag, for fun if anythang else, cuz you know we be livin' it up in our _fan_ tastic animal print and sequins!” Sugar Mama crows in her Southern Louisiana drawl, making the other ladies holler and raise their drinks in wholehearted agreement.

 

“Mmm, yeah, I guess,” he mumbles, “For Halloween or something. I used to when I was little but I grew out of it. My Mom,” he swallows, which the ladies take immediate notice of, “My Mom used to dress me up as a kid when she found out how much I liked wearing princess costumes instead of Power Rangers, though I still loved those too. We'd spend the day together in the kitchen making things from her family recipes. It was one of the things we did together that was just for us because she didn't believe in gender norms and wanted me to experience everything with an open mind. Wouldn't be opposed to it if it's for fun.”

 

“Our annual Halloween Drag Show is coming up at the end of next month,” Crystal chimes in, fluffing up her hair. “We'd love to have new blood up on stage with us. Interested?”

 

Stiles mulls the idea over in his sluggish brain but ends up shrugging, “Sure, why the hell not.”

 

It seems like that was the right move because the ladies all cheer and talk a mile a minute about what they want to see him in. He's happy to see them so excited.

 

“You will not regret it. It will be ze time of your life,” Dom murmurs the promise into the shell of his ear, a sexy tilt on her dark stained lips as he nuzzles closer. 

 

After sobering up a bit with a tall glass of water and some curly fries thanks to Paula, Stiles texts his dad and deletes the ones from Scott and the pack asking/demanding to know where he is while Amber offers him a ride (“You are in no shape to drive, pumpkin”). They are going to pick him up tomorrow to go shopping two towns over and a 'spa day', then swing by Jungle again during the dead hours to help him practice how to walk in heels before he heads home for dinner with his dad. 

 

Suddenly he wasn't so certain on what he just got himself into at the mention of stilettos but Dom assures him he'll do splendidly as they all exchange numbers. 

 

“Until tomorrow, _cherie. Bonne nuit,_ ” she says with a kiss on the cheek. He grins and flails a hand at them in goodbye as Amber peels out of the parking lot to take him home. 


	2. Ruby

The next morning, he wakes slightly hungover to the chime of the Power Rangers signal going off on his phone, signaling a text. It's from Amber.

 

_**Make sure to take some aspirin and eat something, cupcake. Be there in 30. <3** _

 

Checking the time, he grumbles a little to himself that it was too damn early to be up on a Saturday but hauls himself up to get ready. 

 

Half an hour later, three crazy fancy expensive-looking sports cars pull up in front of his house, and after scribbling a note to his dad and sticking it onto the fridge, he hurries into the one in front of the line, waving to the girls in the other two vehicles.

 

“Good morning, _cherie_. Sleep well?” Dom asks as she pulls away from the curb, the others following suit. 

 

“Mornin',” Stiles attempts to stifle a yawn, “Yeah, I slept like a baby considering all the fun-times I had last night. Jake's, like, super dangerous with vodka, man. I also crammed down a bagel this morning to go with my meds, so I'm good to go.”

 

She smirks at his choice of words, “Excellent. First stop: clothes.” Shifting gears, she puts pedal to the metal and Stiles starts to feel a little worried at the slightly maniacal look in her eyes. He's really glad he'd buckled up already - safety first! “Oh, we are going to have so much _fun_. I have not had anyone to spoil in ages! I wonder if silk or lace would be better against your skin. Hmm, maybe both...”

 

Scratch worried, Stiles is suddenly very, very afraid for his fashion sense and hangs onto his seat as Dom expertly weaves in and out of traffic, the others not far behind them.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Once they get into the city and to the specialty boutiques that cater to ladies such as Stiles' new friends, the boy is immediately bombarded by fashion choices that the girls throw into his arms. 

 

He learns the importance of basic pieces and the difference between an A-line and a pencil skirt, how to bisect the ass and how to show it off tastefully with jackets or blouses, some of which that cinch at the waist to help make it appear smaller and slimmer. 

 

He's shown how to create the illusion of curves where there were none before and how to soften the lines of his body with draping and ruching. (“ _Ugh_ , you're not as broad up top, you lucky bitch. So jelly!” Amber sighs at him before thrusting an off the shoulder dress at him to try on.)

 

He studies the way color and patterns work together and how to complete an outfit with shoes and accessories, soaking the new information up like a sponge. The girls are taking this competition very seriously, so he will too. 

 

By the end of the first hour, the pile in his arms goes over his head and he cautiously makes his way over towards the fitting room Dom points him to and manages not to trip over himself in the process. 

 

It was going to be a long day, he could already tell.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next stop is choosing make-up which thankfully didn't take as long as the clothes did, but still. By the time they are out of Sephora – after testing them on Stiles which he did not appreciate and picking out the perfect shade of foundation, blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, lip _gloss -_ Stiles now understands the meaning of shop 'til you drop. His poor knees feel like they're going to give up on him at any moment.

 

After that is the salon. It takes the combined efforts of Sugar Mama and Anita Mann to drag his pale scrawny ass into a chair kicking and screaming, but they did and Stiles pouts and complains the whole time his nails - all twenty of them – are cleaned, cut, buffed and polished. He absolutely _bitches_ and curses like a sailor when it came time to _waxing_ of all things. 

 

Scarring, traumatic experiences are scarring and traumatic, and Stiles nearly weeps when Dom soothes a hand over his head and says that next time, he could do it at home with Nair or shaving cream and a razor if he wants.

 

Anything would be better than doing _that_ again. Stiles wasn't sure if was bleeding in some places or not because _ow_. 

 

“Hate. So much hate right now,” he groans as he hobbles out of the salon and itches at his newly groomed eyebrows, his entire body sensitive and tingling from the horrid wax treatment.

 

“Buck up, buttercup,” Crystal says unsympathetically as she breezes by, “Welcome to life of a Queen.”

 

“If this is the life, can I go back to being a stable boy then? A peasant, even?” he whines, and yelps when the twins give him a playful smack on his new shiny reddened ass.

 

“Nope!” they chirp and hook their arms around his to drag him to their next destination. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Seriously?” Stiles gapes at the window displays and Dom gently closes his mouth before he's being pushed inside. “Why meee?” he moans as he is asked to strip from the waist up by the sales consultant. 

 

“The bra is your friend, honey. Embrace it,” Sugar Mama nods as the sales consultant takes her measuring tape and goes to work, taking note of his measurements with an expert eye. 

 

“Lingerie iz essential,” Dom adds in as the other girls go about browsing, and he's once again stuck inside a changing room with a pile of things to try on a while later, half of which he didn't even how to put on but he somehow manages. 

 

He tries on the first set, satin red with black lace artfully sewed on, and when he pulls the panties up his legs he shivers as the soft fabric rubs up against his smooth hairless skin. 

 

Okay, so maybe there was a reason for the whole waxing thing after all.

 

Making sure everything is tucked into the appropriate places – thank god these were cut specifically to fit men's bodies – Stiles shifts and moves experimentally to find them actually kind of pleasant against his family jewels. They kind of cradle him in all the right places and aren't as restricting as he first thought they would be. Huh. Interesting.

 

He turns to see what he looked like in the mirror and admires how the red and black compliments his skin tone, then spins around to see how it looked in the back. 

 

“Wow. Well you look at that,” he mutters to himself and waggles his eyebrows at his reflection. “Stiles got _booty_.” He laughs to himself. “Kinky.”

 

Oh, man, if anyone ever found out about this...

 

The thought has the same effect as ice cold water poured over his head and reality rears its ugly head.

 

If anyone found out about this, he'd be the high school pariah, even more so than before. He could imagine the look of disbelief on Scott's face, the surprise on Danny's, the disgusted mocking on _Jackson's_...

 

God, what will he Dad think? He just got him back; he doesn't want to jeopardize that now after everything that went down. His Dad is all he had left. Sure the Sheriff had been tolerant and indulgent when he was a kid, but now he's almost eighteen years old. He was going to have to keep this a secret.

 

Oh my god, and _Derek_...

 

Stiles didn't realize he was hyperventilating until Dom's gentle hand comes to rest on his shoulders and he's tugged into an embrace. 

 

“Breathe, _cherie_ , breathe for me,” she instructs in a clear voice that cuts through the fog inside his head, “copy me.”

 

She places one of his hands on her chest right above her heart and takes deep steadying breaths, holding in for two and then exhaling out for one. In for two, out for one. He follows her lead until slowly starts to breathe normally on his own again.

 

Humiliated, he buries his face into her neck and trembles in her arms, “I'm sorry.”

 

“Hush, _ma petite_. It iz not your fault,” she says soothingly, rubbing calming circles into his back, “I was so worried though when I came to check up on you, and you did not answer me. To find you like that...What happened to make you panic so?” 

 

“M-my Dad, he's all I have left, Dom. What if he hates me and disgusted with me when he – when he -”

 

“There, there, Stiles,” she croons, “he does not have to find out, not unless you want him to, and if he does, from what you've told us about him last night, he will love you still. He sounds like a good man.”

 

“The best,” he says softly.

 

Dom smiles, “Indeed. And if things do not turn out so well, I could always give him a talking to, but I doubt it will come to that so no more sadness, _oui?_ ”

 

Stiles can't help but grin at the mental image of Dom in her catsuit giving his father the Sheriff a dressing down and takes a moment to compose himself before he nods, “ _Oui_.”

 

She smiles, “ _T_ _rès bon_. Now, let me take a look at you.”

 

Stiles takes a step back out of her arms and fights not to fidget as she looks him over with a critical eye.

 

“Ah, _magnifique_! The twins chose well with ze color. How do you feel in this particular cut? Iz good, _non_?”

 

He scratches his necks and blushes, “It, um...it's actually really comfortable, and I like how it looks on me. Now that I've discovered your secrets, I kind of don't want to go back, I don't think. Hence my freakout about everything.”

 

She nods and smirks, a knowing look in her eyes, “Does it make you feel more confident in yourself? More...sexy?”

 

His blush darkens and he nods. “I don't know about the rest yet, but these panties are kind of bomb.”

 

She grins, “ _Très, très bien!_ I knew when I first laid eyes on you that you would be special. You just need a little coaxing.” She gestures to the pile on a nearby chair, “Come, we have much to try on, let us see how you look with ze rest of ze set...”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dominique almost buys him half the store until Stiles finally puts his foot down and manages to get away with just three bra and panty sets (the bras came fully padded for the perfect feminine silhouette and Stiles ends up choosing three cuts for the panties: bikini, cheekies, and the comfy hiphuggers), two garter belts, three camisoles, four pairs of stockings, and a slinky little red bathrobe. 

 

After that it's time to hit the spa, and as he's turned into a puddle of bliss under Hilda's expert hands, he could say the fully body Swedish massage was definitely worth everything he's endured today. He's so relaxed and feeling good that he didn't even complain once when it was his turn for a facial. 

 

When it's time to leave the girls groan and whine, but Stiles reminds them that the clock is ticking and they should hurry back to Jungle if they want to teach him how to walk properly. He hasn't had dinner with his dad in what feels like a long time and he ain't gonna miss it for no man (or woman as is the case).

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time he finally stumbles into his house under the ridiculous weight of his 'gifts' – what the girls had told him to take the new wardrobe as, since he didn't spend a single penny today (they wouldn't hear it and refused to take his money when he'd tried reasoning with them) – his feet are screaming at him, 'Why? Why would you do that to us? Put us through that torture after all the places we've been though?' 

 

'God, I think I have blisters on my blisters,' he thinks, wincing with every step up the stairs to his room. ''New shoes always need to be broken in, especially pumps.' 'Broken in', my ass, Dom!' he stops, then snorts to himself, 'Oh, hello jokes. Long time to see.'

 

Shaking his head, he has just enough time to hide the bags in the back of his closet and start dinner when his dad comes home from his weekly meeting with Chris Argent down at the firing range.

 

Yeah, he doesn't exactly like the fact his dad is suddenly besties with the hunter, but what can ya do. There is the fact that Chris is the only remotely decent one to come from that demented, psychotic family besides Allison, but that isn't really saying much. Also, Stiles really doesn't want to think about the girl who pretty much stole his best friend from him however unintentionally it was, and tried to kill people not so long ago. And going off tangent, but isn't Chris, like, with crazy uncle Peter Hale now (or is it 'back together with')?

 

Well, more like just sassy uncle Peter. The older wolf has mellowed out a lot, especially after hooking up with older Argent again. Apparently those two have history last time he heard, but what does he know. It wasn't like he was pack or anything. 

 

He pushes the feeling of bitterness down and turns around to greet his dad before going back to work on his grilled chicken and wild rice with sauteed vegetables.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next night he's back at Jungle for what the girls call his Grand Entrance. With Caps.

 

Stiles is understandably terrified, nervous and a little excited all at the same time. 

 

“Relax, _chica_ ,” Anita says as she's powdering his nose, “Chu will do _fantástico_.” She moves out of the way so the twins can finish up on his eyes with mascara. 

 

“Waiii, so beautiful, Sti-chan!” they squee, matching porcelain doll-like faces beaming from under black bangs as they clap their manicured hands excitedly at their work of art. 

 

He looks in the mirror and doesn't see the gawky, lanky, geeky boy with the flailing limbs he's used to seeing. Instead, he see a shy, rather pretty girl with bright honey colored eyes and pink glossy lips. He tries a smile and the girl in the mirror smiles back.

 

“Agreed,” Dom nods in approval as Sugar Mama pinches his lightly rouged cheeks and Amber fusses with the long loose dark auburn curls of his wig - which actually matches his actual hair color rather well - along with the satin ribbon headband.

 

Crystal hands over his shoes, a pair of four inch mary jane pumps that go with his 'innocent school girl' look for the evening and Stiles suddenly doesn't think he could do this. 

 

Even if he's now stable on stilts and can walk around all right, what if he falls flat on his ass like he did the first time he took a step in heels? He occasionally trips over himself wearing sneakers. 

 

What if his wig falls off or he has a wardrobe malfunction? What if he ends up embarrassing the girls? 

 

Sensing his distress by the look on his face, Dom kneels down in front of him and takes a hold of his hands and gives them a reassuring squeeze. “You will be fine.” She spoke with such confidence in him that Stiles takes a deep shaky breath and nods his head, determined to believe it too. Smiling proudly Dom aids him with his shoes, commenting on his nice simple choice of white knee-high socks, and makes sure he puts in those gel inserts to make them more comfortable before helping him stand.

 

“Show time, girls,” she calls and the rest of the ladies holler.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The crowd that greets them as they step on stage goes wild, and Stiles is surprised there were so many people here for the ladies. Drag nights seems really popular and Jungle is proud of its Queens. 

 

He gives an awkward smile and wave when he's first introduced as Scarlet, his new stage name, blushing and biting his lip as the crowd welcomes him with great enthusiasm. Catcalls and wolf whistles ring out and some guys even go so far as to lick their lips when he meets their lustful gazes, all for him.

 

Something loosens inside him as he smiles more naturally and begins to ham it up a little, actually enjoying the attention. It does wonders for his battered self-esteem, his confidence level slowly rising. Maybe he could do this after all.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later that night he's heading to the bar to visit Jake, men coming up to him like flies to honey with propositions to dance which he politely turns down, when he bumps into someone. 

 

“Oh, sorry-” He looks up into Danny's shocked brown eyes.

 

“Stiles?”

 

 **Fuck**.

 

“Please, don't tell anyone,” he immediately begs, clutching the hem of his flitted gray sweater vest anxiously. “ _Please_. I know I annoy you with all my 'Am I attractive to gay guys' questions but I finally figured it out on my own so if you could just keep this to yourself, I would be eternally grateful but if you-”

 

“Stiles,” Danny interrupts his babbling and he takes a breath as the other boy puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and peers at him with understanding, “it's fine. I won't tell anyone, okay?”

 

“Promise?” he asks quietly, not wanting this to be taken away from him just when he's found it, and Danny smiles kindly at him.

 

“I promise. It's not my secret to tell, not that I go around spilling people's secrets anyway.” Shrugging, he leads Stiles to the bar, “Besides, you make a very pretty lady.”

 

He grins when all Stiles does is gape at him and he closes his mouth for him.

 

“Wanna drink?”

 

Stiles nods and waves at Jake who looks ecstatic to see him. He turns to Danny with a cheeky smile, “ **Suck, Bang & Blow** sound good to you?”


	3. Crimson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things get heated. Then angsty. ):
> 
> REVISED.

At school the following week, Stiles is feeling on top of the world. He had a great time with Danny and the ladies last Sunday night - who all loved the Hawaiian boy instantly on sight when they met him; he'd aced the chemistry test on Monday much to Mr. Harris's annoyance, and he got an extra soda out of the vending machine during break today.

 

Humming to himself he was just on his way to meet Lydia for lunch when he's pulled into an empty classroom by none other than Scott, who he hasn't seen in days.

 

“Dude, where were you this weekend? You didn't answer any of my texts and I couldn't get into your room through the window,” Scott says with a confused look on his face.

 

“What, no 'Hello, Stiles'?” he scoffs and shakes his head, crossing his arms, “I was busy, and breaking and entering is against the law by the way.”

 

“C'mon, man, this is important. You missed the pack meeting last week and Derek was more pissed off than usual and took it out on us.”

 

At that, Stiles begins to feel his annoyance bleed into genuine anger.

 

“So what, you expect me to do something about it?”

 

“Well, Derek listens to you-”

 

He laughs, the ugly sound tearing out of his throat in awful jagged notes. “Look, just because I missed one of your little meetings doesn't mean I owe Derek anything. It's not my fault he's an asshole and you got your asses handed to you because of it. Knowing you, you probably willingly and knowingly provoked him with something, because even though he's your Alpha, you're still don't follow him like a good beta should. Not that I entirely blame you since he's been a shit Alpha himself.”

 

Scott stares wide eyed at him, but he bulldozes on now that he's worked up about it, “I don't know nor care if he told you, but the last time I tried to stick up for you, I was told I'm not pack and to mind my own goddamn business, so no. Derek doesn't listen to me. Hell, it takes so much just for him to consider what I have to say before, even when he knows I'm right, because he doesn't trust me. I don't think I ever was considered pack to any of them, even after all the shit I've done for you all, so just in case you didn't get it, Scott, I'm going to stay out of the way from now on since I'm a such a _useless human outsider._ I know where I’m not wanted so I'm going to pretend to be normal again.

 

“I'm taking care of my dad and myself and no one else, and I'm _not_ going to lie to him again just to save your hide anymore. You and your werewolf problems are not my responsibility any longer because you have your pack and I'm no longer needed. I'm done with werewolves, so if you need help? You're on your own.”

 

He turns away from Scott's huge puppy eyes, the hurt and betrayal in them stinging, but it's not like Scott's ever noticed it when Stiles feels the exact same way. “I thought you were my best friend.”

 

He snorts derisively and sees red, whirling around to go off on Scott, “Don't you fucking _dare_ pull that bullshit with me, McCall. I haven't been your best friend since you started leaving me behind for Allison again and again, ignoring my texts, my calls, what I have to say, my fucking _warnings_. Even after you two broke up, Isaac has been filling in that spot nicely, hasn't he? With him around, you never even bothered to hang out with me, check up on me, or even spare me a thought unless you needed something from me, so don't go acting like you're the victim here. I'm not the one who ruined a lifelong friendship with his dick or his werewolf instincts. _Get a clue_.”

 

With that he flings the door open, making Scott flinch when it bangs loudly off the opposite wall, and storms off to find Lydia, leaving a properly chastised Scott behind in the classroom feeling helpless and ashamed and alone.

 

Abandoned.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Rounding the corner, Stiles was just about the to head to the library when he was suddenly slammed into the lockers, Derek's trio of misfit betas crowding around him, specifically Erica in all her blonde leather clad glory.

 

“What did you do to Derek?” she hisses, her claws coming against his chest where she's got him pinned as the other two loomed behind her. “He went more berserk on us after you didn't come back to training last week!”

 

Stiles narrows his eyes and hisses angrily right back at her, catching them by surprise at his audacity to stand up for himself. Puh- _lease_.

 

“Oh, _Hell_ no,” Stiles sasses at her, channeling Sugar Mama. He smacks her hand away from him too while he's at it. “Girlfriend must be out of her _god damn_ mind if she thinks she has the _right._ Uh-uh, honey. That won't fly.”

 

He takes a step right in her face, his momentum picking up now that she's got the ball rolling, and in the back of his mind he is a little surprised that they actually all take a step back from him in the face of his angry tirade, but no time to think about that now.

 

He lets them have it.

 

“You think you can just come up in here and _demand_ things from me now? Just like that, huh. Because I'm _human_. Is that right?” Stiles raises an unimpressed brow and snorts. “Well newsflash, tuts: for one thing, _my_ world does _not_ revolve around _you_. And for another? I may be human, but that don't make me helpless. Not by a _long shot._ Also don't forget: at one point? You were human, too.

 

“What, you think you all badass now that you have wolfy powers? Think again. You're nothing but a bunch of puppies compared to your Alpha; no self-control – a prime example would be fucking _hitting me with a part from my own jeep_ and putting me in a dumpster - so he has to clean up after you, not that I give a shit about whatever your Alpha is doing.” He waves off flippantly.

 

“To answer your question, I didn't do a damn thing to him. If anything, I tried to defend your ungrateful asses against his training from hell and what does that get me? Abso- _fucking_ -lutely nothing. Nothing from him, and certainly nothing from the likes of _you_. So? No more. I'm not even gonna bother with you anymore; no more research, no more food, no more help, no more Stiles. Figure it out for yourselves for once. I'm done trying to protect you when this is the thanks I get.

 

“Leave me alone, leave my father alone, and we won't have any problems. Keep in mind that I know your weaknesses. If I want you gone? I will make it so.” Pulling out a spray bottle from his pocket, he aims the nozzle high and sprays the air between them just enough so the wolves can feel the acid burn of the special wolfsbane he's been messing around with thanks to a couple of Deaton's books, enough to make them cringe and whine before pocketing the bottle again with a 'hmph!' and with a snap of his fingers, he spins on his heel and struts away like a badass diva he is on his quest to find Lydia.

 

“Did he just-” Erica sputters.

 

“Was Stiles really-” A confused Issac says at the same time.

 

“-giving us a verbal smack-down via sass?” Boyd finishes for them. “Looks like it.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles stomps his way into the library and when he thinks this day couldn't get any worse, he sees Lydia with her arms crossed by their usual table with a guilty looking Danny standing next to her.

 

Stiles stops and groans out loud, ignoring the sharp look the librarian throws him as he makes his way over, “Don't tell me.”

 

“I'm really sorry, Stiles,” Danny rushes out, “She wouldn't let it go until she had everything out of me when I accidentally let it slip that I bumped into you last weekend.”

 

At the sincere apologetic look in the other boy's eyes, Stiles sighs and his leftover anger deflates. “No worries, man. What can you do, right? Lyds is like a shark in the water when it comes to gossip,” he jokes and Danny grins at him in relief. They bump fists.

 

Lydia sniffs, “You insult me, Stilinski,” but her eyes are teasing before they get that same maniacal glint he saw in Dom not two days ago.

 

Dread starts to pool in his stomach. He knows that look. “It's not like I will go blabbing this information, either, so your secret's safe with me as well. Danny really is a good guy, and to make it up to you, he and I will take you shopping after practice tomorrow.”

 

Stiles splutters and whines, “More shopping?”

 

At Lydia's raised eyebrow and Danny's vaguely amused look, he realizes he just walked into a trap and face palms.

 

“Spill,” Lydia demands, so he does.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The rest of the day and the day after manages to go by without any more drama until it was time for practice.

 

Jackson suddenly decides to slam him against the lockers when he'd just finished changing and about to head out to the field, demanding to know why Lydia and Danny were hanging around the likes of a loser like him, and okay, really? That is _it_. He is so sick of the other boy's attitude.

 

Jackson is decidedly not prepared for the hard stinging slap across the face and the oncoming rant heading his way. Neither are Scott, Isaac and Danny who are the only ones still in the locker room as they all stare gobsmacked at a royally pissed off Stiles, who is shaking out his hand because slapping a werewolf in the face may not have been the best idea on his part.

 

“No. You want me to say it in Spanish? _No_. You are not the boss of me, _chico_ , so you better close that big ass trap of yours and deal with your social problems like a normal person _or so help me GOD,_ I will smack you silly! **Again** ,” Stiles throws the words out with the rapid fire speed, emphasizing his words with some harsh pokes to Jackson's chest, who is smart enough to take a step back from the fuming boy.

 

Move over Sugar Mama, 'cause Anita's coming through loud and clear, "What's the matter with you, huh? _Oh,_ my girlfriend and my best friend suddenly start to hang out with someone that isn't me, boohoo, I'm so _lonely_.”

 

He scoffs in disgust.

 

"Cry me a fucking river. You wanna know why they'd rather be with me? Well why don't you ask them yourself, tough guy. My _god_ , you really are just like a spoiled brat who doesn't get his way!” He flails in frustrations before squinting his eyes at Jackson, looking at him up and down with a raised unimpressed brow. “ _How_ old are you again?”

 

Tsking, he's fed up and shakes his head in disappointment before marching off out of the room, an amused and mildly awed Danny following right behind him, leaving three stunned, bewildered werewolves in their wake.

 

After practice - in which Stiles totally throws himself into in order to vent all his anger and frustration and gives his teammates a run for their money while greatly impressing Coach Finstock - Lydia does as she promised and drags Stiles and Danny with her towards the jeep to head to the mall.

 

A couple hours playing dress up with them and several shopping bags worth of new stylish Lydia-approved clothes, shoes, and accessories for his _en homme_ wardrobe later, Stiles feels better and thanks them for the pick-me-up, dropping them off at their respective homes with a wave before driving back to his own humble abode.

 

He pulls up into his driveway and immediately notices the big black SUV parked a little ways down from his house. Knowing what that means, he purses his lips into a thin line at the offending vehicle and steps out of his own with his shopping bags in hand.

 

When he reaches the front door it opens just as he puts down his bags and reaches into his pocket for his keys.

 

Chris Argent stares at him for a moment before giving him a small smirk and a polite nod as he steps around the young man which doesn't fool Stiles for a second. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at the hunter which probably doesn't come off as threatening at all if the raised eyebrow is anything to go by.

 

Stiles points two fingers at his own unblinking eyes before swiveling them around to point them at Argent to silently convey 'I'm onto you, buddy, so watch yourself.'

 

The older man merely snorts in amusement but holds up his hands innocently in a gesture of peace before walking off towards his SUV. Stiles sticks his tongue out childishly at the man's back and carries his things inside, making sure to firmly shut the door and click the lock into place with finality.

 

“Hey, Dad, I'm home!” he calls out and finds his dad in the living room tidying up some plates and a couple empty bottles of beer.

 

The Sheriff was forced to take a mandatory month long vacation from his department since he's been working almost nonstop since his return. Needless to say, the Stilinskis are grateful and looking forward to some much needed family time.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” John looks up and raises an eyebrow at the numerous bags that quickly surrounds the edge of the couch as Stiles plops down next to him with a sigh, “have fun?”

 

“Yeah...Lydia and Danny kinda went overboard.”

 

The eyebrow rises to meet its twin. “Lydia? Lydia Martin? The same Lydia Martin you've been mooning over since kindergarten?”

 

Stiles scratches his neck, “Aha...yeah. She's kind of a friend now?”

 

“Huh. Well that's good, right?”

 

“Yeah, except in a twist of irony I don't exactly like her like that anymore now that we're BFFs. Such is my life,” Stiles bemoans before he rifles through his bags. He nervously adds, “Actually, I don't think I like girls like that in general.”

 

His dad doesn't miss a beat, “Oh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

There's a pause. “Huh. Well then,” John mutters pensively and that was that, apparently.

 

Except it wasn't.

 

“That would sort of explain the red satin panties I found in the laundry this afternoon, but not really.”

 

In the excitement of his dad's vacation, Stiles had completely forgotten about doing stealth laundry this week, normally washing things he wants hidden when his father wasn't home and therefore not needing to sneak around his own house in order to do it.

 

Now his secret is out.

 

Seeing the blood quickly drain from Stiles' horrified face, John quickly curls an arm around his son's shoulders and reels him in, kissing him on the top of the head.

 

“Hey,” he says softly, “You know I'll always love and support you no matter what, right?”

 

Stiles just buries his face in his father's neck and throws his arms around his middle, croaking out a soft, “Yeah. But now I know you really, really _mean_ it.”

 

“I love you, son.”

 

“Love you too, dad.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They end up talking about Stiles' new hobby for a bit, how he rediscovered the joys of woman's clothing and some good old times from the golden days when his mom was alive to help him pick out a party dress for tea time, before Stiles hugs his dad one more time and hauls his things up to his room to put them away so he can get started on dinner.

 

He'd just hung up his last shirt when there's a knocking by his window, but even with the blinds drawn, he knew exactly who it is.

 

“Stiles.”

 

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the wall, takes a shaky breath through his nose.

 

“Stiles, I know you're in there.”

 

“Good for you.”

 

“Open the window.”

 

“No. Go away.”

“ _No._ Now open the window before I-”

 

“Before you what, Derek? Break it open? Oh wait, no you can't because there's mountain ash keeping you from touching the glass from the outside, not to mention my dad's home, but you already knew that too, didn't you _wolfy_?” Oh, the bitter sarcasm is positively _biting_ and he could feel more bubbling up inside him just waiting to spill out.

 

“Stiles,” Derek growls in warning and normally Stiles would heed it, but not today.

 

“What the hell do you want from me, Derek?” explodes from his mouth.

 

He hears Derek shift before the wolf responds, “You weren't at the meeting last week.”

 

He barks out a short laugh, “What the fuck does that have to do with anything? I'm not pack, just a _useless human outsider_ , remember?”

 

“Stiles-”

  
“NO! You don't get to do this. Go _away_ , Derek.” Blinking back the moisture from his eyes, his voice cracks, “Haven't you hurt me enough already?” His resolve hardens as he furiously wipes at his eyes, “Just leave me alone.”

 

There's a pause and then the shadow from the window slowly moves away as if reluctant to leave, before Derek disappears from the roof.

 

Knees weak from the confrontation, Stiles collapses onto his bed and curls up into a ball, not moving until his dad calls to him worriedly from downstairs and forcing himself into a semblance of okay before heading down.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

'What have I done?'

 

Guilt weighs heavily on his mind as Derek swiftly makes his way back to his half finished house. Instinct urges him to turn back and comfort Stiles and beg for forgiveness but he shakes it off.

 

He'd hurt him and now Stiles didn't even want to see him.

 

The wolf in him whines pathetically as he keeps on running, just like he always seems to end up doing.


	4. Burgundy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, yu guys are just fab, can I just say that? :D Tanks so much fer the kudos and comments. I didn't think this would be received so well, haha! 
> 
> Anyways, time for the groveling on the pack's part. :3

 

The next day Stiles avoids the pack at all costs, not speaking to them, not sitting anywhere near them, not even looking at them as he pretends they're not even there. Though he does see from the corner of his eye that Isaac is staring at him longingly and whimpering quietly to himself from across the room while Erica is subdued and timid, and Boyd is trying to look small from where he's sitting in the back.

 

Jackson keeps his head down throughout the day and Scott looks lost.

 

He resolutely ignores them all.

 

By lunchtime Lydia takes one good look at him and sighs, “Oh, Stiles,” before pulling him into a hug while Danny rubs at his back and neck in silent support.

 

After school, he skips lacrosse and texts the girls, driving down to Dom's place - a huge elegant French chateau on the richer side of Beacon Hills – once he receives directions.

 

When he pulls up the long winding driveway after entering the gate, Dom's huge manservant Leonard opens the door for him and takes his red hoodie to the closet as the ladies flock to their little fledgling in his time of need and hug the shit out of him before ushering him further inside the house.

 

Dom holds him and the twins coo at him in his new clothes while Sugar Mama and Anita whip up some comfort food in the kitchen.

 

Crystal and Amber cheer him up by telling him stories about their wild years in college and high school in the meantime.

 

As they all laugh while Amber finishes up a story about the time involving a banana and the captain of the football team, Anita hands him over a spoon and a bowl of _ropa vieja,_ a Cuban beef stew, and Sugar Mama places a overflowing plate of dirty rice and some plump, juicy shrimp with a small dish of cajun sauce in front of him on the coffee table.

 

He digs in with relish, moaning obscenely at the heavenly tastes and complimenting the chefs much to Anita and Sugar Mama's delight and everyone else's amusement.

 

When he's done and the plates are cleared away by Leonard, Dom looks him in the eyes and asks, “Do you want to talk about it now, _cherie_?”

 

The girls go quiet as he chuckles without humor, “Where do I even start?” He runs a hand through his short hair and doesn't meet their eyes.

 

“The beginnin's usually a good start, sugar,” Sugar Mama says, her eyes gentle.

 

Stiles sighs, “I suppose it is.”

 

So he tells them, tells them everything from the very beginning; from the time in kindergarten where he befriended a goofy boy with a mop of brown curls, to the moment his massive crush began on a strawberry blonde girl who grew up to become a genius femme fatale.

 

He skips over the werewolf bits obviously, but by the time he's done the girls know everything there is to know about him. They know about his Mom and how he loves her so much even more so now that she's gone, and his Dad who he loves just as much and how hard the Sheriff's been trying to keep things together and raising Stiles by himself all these years, how hard Stiles has been taking care of him in turn with his healthy meals for fear that one day his Dad will leave this world too soon as well, and how alone he'd be.

 

They know of what good a friend Lydia and Danny really are to him nowadays and how Scott is not, how his heart's desire had shifted to land on a tall, brooding older man with a tragic past and has the weight of the whole world on his broad shoulders.

 

There's a pause before Anita takes him into her arms and squeezes, “Oh, _querido_ ,” she says, compassion in her ever word, “It's going to be all right, we'll make sure of it, right girls?”

 

A murmur of assent buzzes around the room before Dom claps her hands once in a decisive manner. “ _D'accord._ So, we are going to need rope, a roll of duck tape, a box of chocolates-”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Stiles flailed, “Just what are you planning on doing? Box of chocolates? Really?”

 

“You want your man, do you not?” Dom cocks a brow and places her hands on her hips.

 

“Of course I do, but weren't you listening?” his voice goes quiet, “He doesn't want me.”

 

Dom's eyes soften, “ _Cherie-_ ”

 

“No,” Stiles holds up a hand and shakes his head, “I appreciate the offer, really, but no thanks, girls. I – I'll get over it. It can't be that hard, right?” He laughs weakly before clearing his throat, “Now can we please talk about something else besides my fail of a love life? Something less depressing?”

 

Thankfully, Cassie chooses that moment to ask him about what he's going to do for his routine in the competition and the conversation slowly flows from there as the girls shoot off suggestions left and right.

 

No one brings up Derek again.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When he gets home from Dom's, he greets his dad whose lounging on the couch.

 

“You got something,” John gestures to a package - wrapped up in black wrapping paper with a big yellow bow and everything - with the remote before turning back to his game.

 

Stiles looks confused, “But I didn't order anything?”

 

“Yeah, about that,” his dad begins as he makes his way to the package and sits down beside him, holding the box up to his ear and shaking it to see if he could guess what it is, “you mind telling me why Derek Hale showed up at our door today bearing gifts of all things?”

 

When Stiles doesn't say anything, John turns and sees him frozen in his seat, staring at the package unseeingly.

 

A minute passes without either of them moving, the sounds of the game continuing on in the background before John sighs and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Why don't you open it?”

 

Nodding numbly, Stiles goes to unwrap it carefully with trembling fingers, so unlike how he usually tears into presents. “It's a shirt,” he says in utterly bewildered awe, because it wasn't just any shirt, it was the exact same limited edition Batman shirt that had been ruined by that whachamacallit before everything went to shit.

 

He didn't know what to say.

 

Derek had remembered?

 

Ignoring his father's concerned look, he gathers his gift and makes his way to his room.

 

Collapsing onto his bed, he stares at the shirt some more.

 

What did this mean?

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The presents don't stop there.

 

The next day when he gets home absolutely famished from lacrosse, his dad tells him there's a double bacon cheeseburger, a strawberry milkshake, and curly fries fresh from his favorite diner waiting for him in the living room courtesy of Derek.

 

When asked if Derek got the Sheriff anything, John just grunts in annoyance, “A Cesar salad, an apple and water.”

 

Stiles doesn't know quite what to do with this new information but he couldn't help grinning like a loon in the face of his dad's displeasure at such a healthy meal compared to Stiles' greasy goodness, and at the fact that Derek took his concern for his dad's health into account when it comes to food.

 

After that, two tickets to a movie he's been dying to see but just hadn't had the time to go show up, again delivered to his dad for him to give to Stiles.

 

Then there are the first edition DC comic books - that must have cost a small fortune - all patiently waiting for him on the coffee table the night he came home from practicing his routine for the show.

 

If this is Derek's way of apologizing, it's definitely working to Stiles' chagrin.

 

The Alpha certainly knew the way to his heart, but he's not going to forgive the stubborn werewolf just yet.

 

He wasn't that easy.

 

...Okay, that's a lie, but he wants to see where Derek takes this, wants the wolf to work for it.

 

Stiles thinks he deserves that much, at least.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The weekend passes in a blur of free alcoholic drinks courtesy of Jake and more strutting in heels and lip-syncing for the competition.

 

On Monday it was business as usual at school, what with lunch with Lydia and Danny and the avoiding the pack; that is until practice that afternoon.

 

Almost everyone has gone home already and he's just closed his locker, preparing his backpack to head out as well when all of the sudden there's this weight resting in the middle of his back. Needless to say he starts pretty bad - and will deny that it was a squeak that left his mouth 'til his dying day - before attempting to whirl around to see the perpetrator, only to be stopped by two strong hands resting on his hips.

 

“Don't,” a rough voice says and he stills, “Not yet.”

 

“ _Jackson?_ ” he asks. Incredulous doesn't even begin to describe what Stiles is feeling right now. Because really, _what?_

 

He waits a few seconds before slowly attempting to move again. This time Jackson lets him.

 

When they're face to face, there's only a couple inches of space between them and he notices the other boy is slightly damp from the shower, naked save for the towel wrapped securely around his trim waist. Jackson hasn't let go of his hips, releasing his hold only for Stiles to turn around.

 

“Dude,” Stiles says in confusion, hands flying a little all over the place since he didn't know what to do with them. “Wha-?”

 

A whine stops him in his tracks and then Jackson is burying his face into his neck, sliding his arms around Stiles' waist in a tight hug.

 

“Uh.”

 

Instinctively Stiles curls his arms around the other boy in return, one hand resting on the back of the blond's head as he stares in shocked bewilderment across the way at Danny, who catches his wide eyes. The goalie's eyebrows have shot into his hairline at the sight they made together.

 

Out of his peripheral, Stiles could see Isaac and Scott stop short as well.

 

“Hey,” he says soothingly, running his long fingers through Jackson's ridiculously soft hair that was probably due to the expensive shampoos and conditioners he uses on a daily basis. “You all right?”

 

“Just...need to have you close,” Jackson answers, muffled from his position against Stiles' throat.

 

Stiles blinks. “Okay?” he says and continues to hold the other, petting his head.

 

Eventually Jackson pulls away, his face pink in humiliation and wouldn't meet Stiles' eyes as he mumbles, “It's my wolf, okay? He wants you not to be mad at us – at me anymore.”

 

Stiles leans his head down and try to catch his gaze, amber meeting shy blue.

 

“Sorry,” Jackson whispers.

 

“It's okay,” he murmurs, running a hand up and down Jackson's arm in comfort, almost unaware that he was even doing it.

 

“Not just for this. Last time too. Lydia and Danny talked to me about it.” The co-captain looks down at his feet in shame. “I didn't mean it.”

 

Stiles' eyes soften at the sight of the blond shifting his weight on his other foot like he's uncomfortable, the omega in the pack hierarchy.

 

He smiles almost gently at the other boy, “Apology accepted, dude.”

 

Out of all of the werewolves and despite having been the first to be turned by Derek, Jackson's on the bottom of the food chain, and if Derek ever decides to expand the pack via the bite, Stiles suspects Jackson will always remain the omega judging by his increasingly submissive behaviorism.

 

Jackson hesitantly peeks up at him through his long lashes and bites his lip, “Really?”

 

“Mhm!” Grinning, Stiles playing ruffles the blond locks and cups Jackson's handsome face, thumbing the smooth flawless skin a bit and marveling at how Jackson turns into his touch before the other boy takes a step back, an almost embarrassed look on his face and clears his throat.

 

“Gonna go get dressed,” he replies gruffly and then quickly stalks over to his things.

 

Stiles stifles his totally manly giggles, giddy all of the sudden, and looks over to see Danny smiling in satisfaction.

 

The goalie nods his head in approval, proud of his best friend. It was gonna take some work, but there's hope for Jackson yet.

 

No one noticed the disappearance of the other two werewolves as they slip out of the room, tails between their legs.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The following day after they've “made up” sort of speak, Jackson sticks to his side like glue.

 

Nothing too major sticks out, but there are some things that are definitely noticeable - little things like their knees touching under tables or a hand on the shoulder, an occasional squeeze on the arm.

 

But whenever they have different classes Jackson would look around quickly before leaning in close and nuzzling his cheek with Stiles, then walk off like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

 

Stiles blinks, then shrugs.

 

Okay, so cheek nuzzles are a thing now. No biggie. He chalks it up to being a wolf thing and leaves it at that.

 

Lunchtime rolls around and Jackson convinces Danny and Lydia to drag him to the cafeteria to eat, the blond sitting next to him with Lydia across from him, and Danny across from Jackson.

 

Besides ignoring the glances from the rest of the pack, lunch goes rather well especially when Jackson shares his curly fries with him. Best thing ever.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It wasn't until the end of the next day when he is surprised yet again.

 

The trio silently corner him at his locker where he's switching books, scaring the bejeezus outta him when he turns around to see them all hunched in on themselves and shy.

 

Isaac clears his throat hesitantly as Boyd remains somber and Erica gives him kitten eyes.

 

“We're sorry we didn't appreciate you enough, Stiles,” the pup says quietly, “We took you for granted, and we'd like to make up for it if you'd let us.”

 

“Yeah, Batman,” Erica adds while Boyd nods, “We miss you. And your cookies.”

 

“Oh, I see how it is. You only want me for my cooking.”

 

They shake their heads vigorously and at the sad, pitiful looks on their faces, Stiles could feel his resolve crumbling and resigns himself to the fact that he was never any good at holding grudges for long anyway.

 

Sighing and silently berating himself for not making it harder for them, he opens his arms and is surrounded by relieved werewolf cuddles on all sides.

 

“You guys owe me so big for the rest of eternity,” he mutters, and the pups nod eagerly before Isaac and Erica starting talking over each other, trying to out-do each other about how they were going to make it up to him, each idea more and more ridiculous than the last as Boyd stays silent and enjoys his cuddle.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Two days later, it's evening and he's sitting at his desk typing up a paper due for English when he hears something hit his window. He pauses for a second and listens before slowly going back to work, only to hear it again.

 

It sounded like...small rocks? What?

 

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Stiles stands and makes his way to his window to peak out through his blinds. Baffled, he draws them up to see Scott standing under his window and the other boy waves up at him awkwardly.

 

Stiles crosses his arms as Scott reaches down beside him to hold up a...boombox?

 

“Oh my god, really?” he mutters to himself which makes Scott grin up at him briefly before he presses play and cranks up the volume. “Really _?_ ”

 

“ **You're all I ever wanted** ,” blares out as the song starts, “ **You're all I ever needed, yeah...** **So tell me what to do now 'cause I, I, I, I, I! I WANT YOU BACK!** ”

 

Stiles covers his face with a hand and snorts as Scott sets down the boombox and actually attempts to sing and _dance the actual legit steps to the song_. At the same time. What even.

 

He purses his lips into a thin line, absolutely _not_ suppressing laughter that desperately wants to escape because he's not that easily swayed, dammit.

 

“ **It's hard to say I'm sorry**  
It's hard to make the things I did undone ****  
A lesson I've learned too well for sure ****  
So don't hang up the phone now  
**I'm trying to figure out just what to do  
** **I'm going crazy without you~”**

 

Here Scott points at him and continues on with his ridiculous boy-banding and Stiles is shaking from the effort to hold himself back.

 

" **You're all I ever wanted**  
**You're all I ever needed, yeah**  
**So tell me what to do now**  
**When I want you back** ****

**Baby, I remember** ********  
The way you used to look at me and say ********  
Promises never last forever ****  
**I told you not to worry** ********  
I said that everything would be alright  
******I didn't know then that you were right** ****

“Damn right you didn't,” Stiles huffs.

 

" **You're the one I want** ********  
You're the one I need  
******Girl, what can I do** ****

Oh, the _irony_.

 

 **You're the one I want**  
**You're the one I need**  
**Tell me what can I do**

 **You're all I ever wanted**  
**You're all I ever needed**  
**So tell me what to do now**  
**When I want you back!** ”

 

Just Scott finishes with a flourish, the Sheriff pokes his head out of the door and looks at Scott - whose still frozen in his last dramatic pose - then in the direction of Stiles' window, then back at Scott again before slowly going back inside. “Don't wanna know, but you might wanna keep it down before the neighbors start to complain,” John calls out but Scott could hear the underlining amusement in his voice, making his ears go red.

 

Finally, Stiles decides to take pity on the embarrassed werewolf and lifts his window to speak directly to Scott for the first time in over a week, “Are you calling me a girl, Scott?”

 

Scott nearly topples and whines pathetically, “ _That's_ all you get from that? Seriously, dude? I worked hard on that!”

 

Stiles couldn't help it; he leans against the window heavily and gives in, letting out a snort before convulsing into pure, helpless laughter until tears threaten to leak out of the corners of his eyes.

 

Down below Scott flops down and cracks up too, rolling around in the grass like, well, a puppy - and don't they just make the craziest picture, laughing their asses off like a couple of hyenas in the fading sunset.

 

Wiping away a tear, Stiles finally feels himself calming down and breaks the line of mountain ash, “Ah, I needed that. Get up here, you doofus.”

 

A huge smile splits Scott's face and in no time at all he tackles Stiles in the best, most awesomest bro-hug ever in the history of bro-hugs.

 

They cling to each other way past the time bros usually detach themselves, but Stiles thinks he deserves this. “You fucking idiot potato,” he mumbles into Scott's shoulder.

 

Scott pulls away enough to look at his face.

 

“But I'm your potato. Right?”

 

It hurts him to see how hopeful Scott is about something so simple as that.

 

“Yeah–” his voice cracks so he clears his throat before trying again, “Yeah, you are.”

 

Scott glomps him again. “I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, _so_ sorry I've been, like, a giant douchie douchehead. The hugest, most ginormous asshat buttface ever, but it won't ever happen again. I'm gonna make it up to you Stiles I swear it will be the greatest thing ever and we'll play videos games after - in our boxers! And eat pizza all day 'til we're bloated and drink soda – just the two of us! - and it will be epic just you wait-”

 

Stiles simply smiles and holds him, letting his best friend ramble on and on about all the things they're going to do together.

 

It's nice not having to talk and be the one to listen for a change.

 

Things are finally looking up.


	5. Garnet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update. Cuz I feel like it. :P 
> 
> I smiled like a loon the entire time I wrote the glimpse of Peter/Sheriff in this chapter, and I would just like to say that the Sheriff is a DILF, okay. Just. I love him so mu-huh-huh-uuch. D: Peter and Chris, who are also quite the lookers for their generation, are lucky to have him. 8D
> 
> More feels. Enjoy?

 

Friday night John opens the front door, not surprised in the least to see Derek Hale standing there with his hands shoved in that leather jacket he's so fond of. 

 

It's an almost familiar sight at this point in time.

 

“Derek.” He nods.

 

“Hello, Sheriff.”

 

Derek is staring down at their welcome mat like it was the most fascinating thing in the world and shuffles his feet a little, looking a lot like he had when he and his sister were brought to the station the day of the fire. Vulnerable.

 

After getting past the shock of seeing an ex-murder suspect at his door the first time - and getting over his previous suspicions after threatening to shoot him if he hurts his son - John feels himself softening over the past few days, his heart going out to the younger man, and speaks up, “Stiles isn't home right now. He's out with friends.”

 

“Oh.” Cue more awkward shuffling.

 

“No presents needing to be delivered today?” John asks, blue eyes kind. He found this strange courtship of theirs really quite endearing after Derek had stated his intentions. 

 

Derek shakes his head, “Wanted to see if I could talk to him is all, sir.”

 

“Well if you hurry, he just left. Maybe you could catch up with him, he's headed to Jungle.”

 

Derek finally looks up, looking helpless and a little desperate, “Sir, please be honest. Do you think he'll give me the time of day?”

 

“You won't know until you try, right?”

 

Derek looks down again, broad shoulders slumping, “Yeah.”

 

John leans in towards him a little. “I'll let you in on a little secret,” he smiles, not be able to resist a bit teasing, “He didn't exactly throw away any of your gifts. In fact, I think I saw him in his new T-shirt when he came back from school today, so think on that on your way over, hm?”

 

Big hazel eyes look up at him not daring to hope, but... “Thank you.”

 

“You're welcome.”

 

John watches Derek book it towards his car, then closes the door and goes back to his seat on the couch, his good deed done for the day.

 

The doorbell rings again making him sigh - because of course it does when he's just about to get comfortable – and he gets back up to his feet to open the door once more.

 

“You need something else, Der-?” he cuts himself off, the words trailing into the air when he realizes it isn't Derek at the door, but someone else. Someone vaguely familiar.

 

“My,” the stranger drawls, an attractive man in a fashionable sweater vest and slacks with slick brown hair. Curious roaming eyes give him a slow once-over from head to toe, making the slow heat of embarrassment he hasn't felt in a long time creep up on the back of his neck and he clears his throat self-consciously. 

 

Apparently the man likes what he sees because those flirtatious eyes come back up and locks onto his own wary ones. “Chris didn't mention I'd be meeting the _Sheriff_.” The last word comes off almost as a purr which leaves John feeling unusually flustered before a charming smile is thrown his way and he's offered a hand to shake. He slowly takes it. “My name is Peter, and it's a _pleasure_ to make your acquaintance...”

 

Peter doesn't let go of his hand.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles is with the ladies just coming back to dress rehearsal from a dinner break at the Diner around the corner, which is owned and operated by Sugar Mama (Real name: Jeffrey Goldman) and her wife, the fierce firecracker Ms. Jackie - a tiny little thing with a fearsome personality and a big heart.

 

“Seeing Jackie again makes me miss having someone of my own,” Anita sighs and Amber hums in agreement.

 

Crystal scoffs, “Not me, honey. I'm enjoying the single life.”

 

“Crystal's last boyfriend turned out to a li'l _loco_ ,” Anita tells him in a low voice, but Crystal hears her anyway because Anita isn't exactly known for her subtlety.

 

“ _Loco_? More like straight up psychopath,” she snorts in derision, “I still can't believe I trusted him.”

 

“Don't worry, babe. He's safely locked away at state for a good long while,” Amber pats her shoulder before linking arms and going off on a tangent about these pairs of shoes she saw window-shopping the other day. 

 

Stiles turns to the twins, “What about you two? Do you guys have someone special?”

 

“Mhmm!” they nod happily before digging out their Louis Vuitton pocketbooks to show him identical pictures of a tall blond blue-eyed marine in uniform. Stiles notes that he's very handsome. 

 

“Caleb-kun is the best,” Paula says.

 

“He takes good care of us,” Cassie adds.

 

“He's out at sea right now - ”

 

“But he's coming home soon!”

 

“Maybe in time for the show!” they squeal together.

 

He smiles at their excitement. It must be nice having a person like that in your life. 

 

He wishes – but it's pointless.

 

“Stiles?”

 

Man, even just thinking about the man is making him start to hallucinate because he swears that he just heard Derek's voice. But that can't be true, right? Wow, he's already in so deep. Maybe he should see a professional about this?

 

He stops walking when he realizes the girls have stopped and turned to look behind him and – it hits him like a punch the the face. Ohmygod Derek is actually _here?_

 

He whirls around in his heels, _in his heels - dammit this is the first time he's seen the guy in, like, weeks and he's dressed in drag and ohmyGOD what is his life?!_

 

The werewolf in question looks struck speechless, taking in everything with those wide pretty green-grey eyes of his. Clearly he wasn't expecting to see Stiles in the black corset hugging his figure, or the frilly little dress beneath it, or the white thigh high stockings and the long blood red hooded cape settled over his wig and shoulders.

 

Guess the cub's outta the bag. Oh, hello jokes. You are so not needed right now. 

 

A million thoughts zip through his head, the most prominent ones being _What is he even doing here in this part of town?_ and _Did something happen to the pack?_ and _Shit, he knows!_ and _What-am-I-gonna-do-what-am-I-gonna-do-whatamIgonna_ **do** _?_

 

Panicking, he looks beside him to Dom for help.

 

Calm, steady eyes meet his, and it's like he suddenly know everything's going to be fine. Of course they are, how silly of him: he has Dom and the girls with him. 

 

Stiles turns his head to see Crystal and Amber looking ready to rumble if need be, and the twins giving him two thumbs up while Anita and Sugar Mama nod their heads and give him reassuring smiles. 

 

He takes a deep breath and Dom rests a hand on his shoulder, “We are right here if you need us, _cherie._ ”

 

Giving her a shaky smile, he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders and sets his expression to neutral, however futile it is - because hello, _werewolf_ , but it makes him feel better – and turns to confront Derek. 

 

He crosses the few yards between them. “What are you doing here, Derek?”

 

He's expecting to see Derek stare straight at him and demand something from him like countless other times, but instead his eyebrows shoot up into his wig when the Alpha avoids his eyes and hunches his shoulders up to his ears, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

 

“Can we talk?” Derek mumbles, looking up at him with these wounded puppy eyes that could rival Scott's and Isaac's.

 

And Stiles knows he just lost the battle before it even begins. Because really? How is he gonna fight that face?!

 

Presses his lips in a thin line, he sighs as a front - though his heart is beating like crazy - and steps closer at Derek's prompting until he's in reaching distance. 

 

“Well I guess it can't be avoided any longer,” he mutters, knowing Derek could hear him. “Fine, I'll just start and get straight to the point then, shall I?” 

 

Stalling a bit, he takes the time to straighten out his dress before crossing his arms under his fake chest and stating his piece, “I know it's not exactly a manly thing to say, but you really hurt me, Derek.” He glances off to the side and swallows, “What you said, it just confirmed my deepest fears about my place in the pack, in that I don't have one and that I'm not wanted or needed; that I was always in the way, you know? Human and frail, a burden you had to put up with because you felt you had to in order to keep Scott in line, or to save your own skin.”

 

A whine makes him look down slightly at the other man due to his heels, and Stiles is met with a pair of heartbreaking hazel eyes. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Derek gets out, and it was clear that this was difficult for him to say but Stiles could see sincere regret in every line of his body, “for what I said. It's not true. I was just tired and angry and frustrated with everything – the house, the pack not listening to me when I need them to, Peter disappearing every other night - and I took it out on you when you didn't deserve it.”

 

“Well, you got that right,” Stiles muses, maintaining eye contact, “but you know you don't have to deal with it alone anymore, don't you? They're not perfect, but your pack cares for you, and you for them, even Peter. Hence why you should probably go a little easier on them until they can handle it, hm?” 

 

Derek nods. “You're pack, too,” he says and looks down at his boots, “I never meant to say that you weren't pack, because you're not an outsider, and you're the farthest thing from useless; you're the glue that holds us together, Stiles. When it's a bad day or the full moon's around the corner and tensions are high, you cut it in half with your humor. You cook for the pack and clean the house even when it's half done, and take care of them without prompting. You take care of _me._ Without you, I don't know what to do.”

 

Eyes wide, Stiles blurts out, “Wow, I think that's the most you've ever spoken to me in one go.”

 

Derek goes on and mumbles, “I know it's too much to ask and you have every right to refuse, but,” the werewolf runs a hair through his hair and looks up at him through the dark fringe of his lashes like a nervous little boy, “would...would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime? I want to make it up to you.”

 

Stiles internally coos because Derek is seriously being unfair right now, acting all shy and adorable. The nerve. Suddenly he remembers all the gifts he's gotten in the past couple weeks, and bites his lip to stifle a smile. Derek's eyes zero in on it. “ _Just_ to make it up to me?” he teases.

 

Those lovely kaleidoscope eyes slowly drag up his face, hazel bleeding into crimson red to meet mischievous amber, making Stiles shiver under such heated intensity. 

 

“After that, my wolf wants us to court you properly, the traditional way,” Derek rumbles, taking a step closer until they're almost touching, “We want you, in every way you'll have us.” He hesitates a moment, “If you'll have us?”

 

Wanting to squash the hint of uncertainty he could see in Derek's eyes, Stiles places his hands on the man's shoulder and leans down until their noses barely brush against each other. “Dude, I was confused in my head, my heart, and my pants when I looked at you,” he pecks the wolf's nose, “but I'm not anymore. You wouldn't believe how much I'd like that.”

 

With a growl, Derek does what he's wanted to do since seeing Stiles in that dress. He takes hold of his hips and pulls him flush to his body, tugging the hood down so he could bury his face in his mate's neck. Because that is what Stiles is, his mate. ' _Mine,'_ his wolf purrs contently in his chest.

 

“Are...are you _purring_?” Stiles asks, surprised and delightedly so. His hands slide up to pet the soft hairs on the back of Derek's neck as he bares his own in response, making the rumbles even louder. It isn't anything like a cat's purr, more gruff and growly, but it's a pretty good canine equivalent. 

 

He, Stiles Stilinski, is making Derek Hale purr. What even.

 

“Mmn, wolves don't purr,” Derek snuffles his way up to an ear and gently tugs at it with his teeth, causing Stiles' knees to almost buckle.

 

“H-Hey! That's cheating,” Stiles whines, but Derek could smell the beginning stirs of arousal wafting off of his mate.

 

“The lady doth protests too much,” he deadpans, and Stiles stills against him. For a moment he's worried he took it a step too far again before Stiles starts to shake with laughter, snorting as he rests his head on Derek's shoulder.

 

“This is so not the time for Shakespeare, dude,” but he's grinning when he pulls back to look at Derek and the wolf couldn't help but take hold of his chin and pull him down for a kiss.

 

It's sweet and chaste but leaves Stiles reeling. 

 

“My, what soft lips you have,” he says in a daze when they part and Derek smiles seductively.

 

“All the better to kiss you with, my dear.”

 

“Promises, promises,” he murmurs, breathless, and kisses Derek once more before pulling away reluctantly.

 

“Tomorrow at 8. Pick you up at your house?” Derek asks, squeezing Stiles' hands as they trail down the the man's broad chest for a feel now that he's allowed to, before Derek lets them slip away.

 

Stiles gives him a saucy little wink, “It's a date.”

 

“Good,” he says and leans in for another kiss, and another. 

 

Kissing him one last time Stiles backs away, prolonging contact until the very last moment, and watches Derek slowly slip back into the shadows with that natural ease he's so good at exuding, their eyes never leaving each other until Derek disappears into the night.

 

He pulls his hood back up and turns to walk back to the ladies, not able to keep the grin off his face as he's bombarded by excited chatter and flailing manicured hands.

 

“Hubba hubba!”

 

“You lucky bitch!”

 

“Ooooh, _girl_! You did not tell us your beau is such a fine piece of _man_. Mm! What a hunk!”

 

“Your man is _muy caliente._ I bet he's an amazing lover in bed~”

 

“Rawr!” the twins growl, curling their fingers into playful claws. 

 

Dom just smiles knowingly at him before ushering everyone inside, the girls singing their praises about Derek's hot bod as they all enter through the door.

 

Stiles looks back once to see glowing red eyes staring at him from the darkness before they blink out of sight and he ducks into the club to finish up rehearsal, excitement and hope bubbling in his chest. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.


	6. Vermillion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early update because there's been a death in the family and I'm sad and I know that when I get notifications that you guys actually like the crap that spews out of my mind, it makes me feel better and I'm always happy to know that you guys are reading and enjoying the fic. :)
> 
> More Stackson in the chapter. And pack bonding times! :D

The next night has him in a towel damp from a shower scrambling around in his closet and tossing clothes left and right in a vain attempt to find something to wear, leaving his room looking like a fashion tornado had hit it with clothes thrown absolutely everywhere on every available surface.

 

He thinks he sees a thong hanging of his ceiling fan out of the corner of his eye. 

 

Speaking of which, he doesn't even know if he should go _femme_ or _homme._ Panties or boxers? Boxer briefs? 

 

Gah. 

 

Normally, he'd have the girls or Lydia over to help him, but the girls all have prior engagements and Derek wants to keep this date between the two of them for now before letting the pack loose on their new relationship status.

 

Which Stiles isn't dying to update onto Facebook, still woefully proclaiming his 17-year long case of single-itis. Not at all.

 

His dad is no help because his dad isn't even home, having disappeared with Chris Argent again earlier that day.

 

Finally with a sigh of frustration, Stiles says 'fuck it' and decides the next thing he pulls out of his nearly empty closet will be the thing he wears.

 

He grabs a random item and pulls it off the hanger. 

 

“Huh,” he says to himself, “this is perfect.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

An hour later, Derek rings the doorbell and Stiles greets him with a scarlet smile. “Hey.”

 

Derek's jaw drops. “Oh. Uh. Hi.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Wow. You look...really nice,” he mumbles out lamely as Stiles adjusts the decorative cowl of his red sweater dress around his neck and fiddles around with a stray piece of hair from his wig.

 

Stiles beams at him, blushing in pleasure underneath his rouged cheeks, “Thanks! I picked this one out myself the last time I went shopping with the twins.” He gives himself a hug and burrows in the soft luxurious cashmere for a moment before grabbing his small purse and locking the door. “Ready?”

 

Derek could only nod dumbly, still staring but he's at least capable of offering Stiles his arm and walking him to the camaro, his date's high heeled leather boots click-clacking away while his brain reboots.

 

Because damn, Stiles could work a dress; the belt cinches his waist and those boots showed off those shapely calves quite nicely.

 

Once in the car, Stiles takes a moment to rake his shadowed eyes up and down Derek's frame in turn, his gaze lingering on the man's clean shaven face and soft ungelled head of hair.

 

It makes Derek look deliciously younger. 

 

Mmm. “You look nice too,” he murmurs, fingers twitching with the urge to pet his face and bury themselves in those thick luscious black locks. “I like the plaid.” 

 

Derek looks down at his green plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Erica had once said it made his eyes pop, and he'd chosen his favorite pair of worn, comfortable jeans because this date is supposed to be casual. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” They share a shy smile before Derek pulls out of the driveway and takes them off to their secret destination.

 

Which turns out to be this cozy little Italian bistro just outside of town with the mostly heavenly smell of garlic and tomato sauce drifting out from the door and windows. Awesome.

 

Derek quickly pulls into a spot near the entrance and opens the door for him like a true gentleman, which gives Stiles funny feelings in his tummy. He's not a girl, even though he occasionally dresses like one, but he could get used to this kind of attention if it's from Derek. 

 

Dinner consists of a huge plate of spaghetti made for sharing, a huge hit with couples that had put the bistro on the map, and it tastes as good as it looks and smells to die for. 

 

The two swap stories about the pack's latest shenanigans and at one point it looks like they are about to reenact that famous Lady and the Tramp scene, before the noodle breaks and Derek glares down at their plate like it had just personally betrayed him. 

 

Stiles melts at the sight of the big bad Alpha pouting and can't be blamed for his giggling, okay. It happens. Still totally a manly man here.

 

There's a bit of sauce at the corner of Derek's mouth and before he thinks it through, he reaches over and swipes it away with his thumb, absently popping it into his mouth to suck it clean. When his brain catches up with his body, his eyes go wide and find Derek's gaze on his mouth, the wolf looking hungry for a completely different reason.

 

A pretty blush takes over Stiles' face and he lowers his eyes demurely, taking pleasure in the low rumble he hears coming from Derek across the table. He looks up again in time to see the Alpha's eyes flash red and bites his lip.

 

Derek nearly groans. Stiles is such a fucking tease, and he doesn't even know it. 

 

Afterward, Derek takes him to the finished Hale house for the grand tour, showing him every newly decorated and furnished room - courtesy of Lydia and Jackson, of course, because even thought they're currently off, those two are still a power couple especially when it comes to anything luxury - and ending it with a shy offer of any of the empty guest bedrooms. “The rest of the pack haven't even seen the house yet,” he says, “You're the first.”

 

It takes every bit of Stiles' willpower to not jump the Alpha and climb him like a tree, because seriously? He can't _even_. And he says as much.

 

“I can't with you. I literally CANNOT with your, like, everything right now,” Stiles huffs, annoyed that he's so _not_ at Derek's effective wooing capabilities. “Why are you so... _you_?”

 

At Derek's hurt look he's quick to fix the misunderstanding and takes a hold of that devastating face to give him a tender kiss, “Why are you so good to me?”

 

“Only the best for you,” Derek answers softly, rubbing their noses together and kissing him once more before pulling him downstairs into the living room for a movie. Stiles doesn't have any complaints, because hello? _Cuddling_. With his very own sweet and sexy gorgeous Alpha werewolf badass to boot.

 

Score!

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles wishes the night never ends but alas, like all good things, it does. Derek holds his hand and walks him up to the door. He gently touches their foreheads together. “See you Friday?” Derek asks, green-grey eyes so close, open and content. 

 

“Count on it,” Stiles smiles, “I'll bring cookies.”

 

The wolf snorts softly, “The pups will love that. They've missed you.”

 

“I missed you all too,” he murmurs. Derek nuzzles him and finishes their date with a slow and thorough kiss goodnight that leaves Stiles all hot and shivery before they part.

 

He waves to Derek as the werewolf gets into his car and closes the door, leaning against it as he hears the camaro roar off into the night, feeling giddy and deliriously happy. 

 

Is this what being in love is really like?

 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 

The next night at Jungle the ladies quickly have him surrounded and demand deets.

 

He tells all with a dreamy smile on his face.

 

They coo at him. 

 

“We are so happy for you, _cherie_ ,” Dom smiles and Anita breaks out the champagne. 

 

“To Stiles' hot mancakes!” the latina cheers, raising her glass, and Stiles laughs as the girls go wild.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

At school, Stiles' life has undergone a complete 180. Thanks to the new threads and his recently discovered self-confidence, plus a little gel in his half inch hair, he's suddenly bringing all the girls (and boys!) to the yard.

 

He's currently rocking a maroon cable knit short-sleeved V-neck and some fitted dark washed jeans, with some brand new batman converse sneakers – and a hoodie jersey sweater to match! - that he'd been eying while window shopping which magically appeared on his doorstep that morning.

 

Being wooed is all kinds of win.

 

People stare and whisper as he walks by, some girls giggling and he gets a few catcalls as a few teammates from lacrosse shout out, “Looking good, Stilinski!”

 

He takes it all in with a nod and smile, feeling a little awkward, yet a lot awesome at all the attention.

 

Throughout the day the pack surrounds him and scents him, making sure he smells of them at all times to make up for past weeks: Scott throwing his arm around his shoulders; Erica, Lydia and a newly reinstated Allison – a test run for the pack if Stiles remembers what Scott was telling him correctly, after the beta practically begged and pouted until Derek gave in - taking turns looping their arms with his on the way to class; Isaac hugging him; Boyd and Danny giving his shoulder gentle squeezes; and Jackson taking the liberty of draping himself all over Stiles' back whenever the opportunity presents itself, because Jackson is a needy pup even though he won't ever admit it.

 

All in all, not bad for a school day.

 

Spotting Derek in the parking lot when school lets out, leaning against the camaro like some movie star bad boy where everyone can see him, is just a bonus. 

 

Stiles lights up like the sun. “Hey!” he says and jogs on over, leaning in for a kiss hello when Derek tugs him closer by his belt, aware of the many envious eyes on them.

 

“Hey,” the wolf murmurs back and rubs their noses together, big strong arms secure around Stiles' trim waist.

 

“Not that I'm not happy to see you, 'cause I totally am, but what are you doing here? Did something come up?”

 

Derek nuzzles him. “No. I just couldn't wait. Wanted to see you.”

 

“God,” Stiles sighs out and just _melts_ all over Derek's solid frame. “You can't just say things like that, man. Makes me feel all soft and gooey in the middle.”

 

“Hm,” Derek smiles and pecks him once, then reaches for his keys without taking his eyes off him and tosses them to Scott, who grins and walks towards the jeep where the rest of the pack splits between piling into it and Jackson's porsche. “Let me drive you home.”

 

Stiles bites his lip at Derek's husky tone of voice and licks his lips, eyes hooded, “Okay.”

 

Letting out a low growl at the sight, Derek couldn't help but kiss him again quick and dirty, before opening the door for him with a big broad hand placed low on his back as Stiles gets into the car.

 

Stiles looks out at his peers still idling in front of the school and staring at them while Derek comes around the front and slides into the driver's side, smirking and waggling his eyebrows before Derek peels out of the parking lot with the jeep and the porsche following behind them. 

 

Tomorrow the rumor mills are going to have a field day.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 

Before dropping Stiles off, they pull up to Stiles' favorite diner and the pups all tumble out of both cars as Derek opens the door for him. 

 

“Thanks, handsome,” he gives a cheesy wink and Derek hums before stealing a quick kiss and ushering him inside.

 

They all squeeze into a circular booth near the back: Boyd at one end, then Erica, Isaac, Scott, Allison, Lydia, Danny, Derek, Stiles and then Jackson at the other end. 

 

They're served menus and after ordering their food and drinks, their chatter breaks off into smaller groups, though anyone was welcome to join in; the girls talking about the latest gossip going around school, fashion and future shopping trips, while Scott, Isaac, Danny, and Jackson talk lacrosse and other sports related topics with Boyd listening in and commenting once in a while. 

 

Stiles turns to Derek, the Alpha seemingly relaxed as he lets his pack's words wash over him with a rare contentment. They were all finally coming together and he's going to make the most of it and enjoy it. Stiles smiles at that.

 

It dims slightly though when he realizes the pups don't know about Scarlet and the ladies at Jungle aside from Lydia and Danny. Derek obviously knew as well, but he wonders how they'll take the news.

 

As if sensing his change in mood, the pack starts to simmer down and Jackson lets out a quiet noise of concern, being the closet one to him. The blond leans in for a cheek nuzzle in hopes of comforting him but Stiles turns his head at the last moment and a pair of soft parted lips touch another for a brief moment before they instantly jerk back. 

 

Any conversation that was going on, dies right on the spot.

 

Wide blue eyes meet stunned amber before Jackson immediately turns to his Alpha, afraid of the older wolf's ire. 

 

Stiles does the same, but instead of looking angry, Derek looks...thoughtful. The Alpha meets his omega's frightened blue gaze, his own eyes shifting from red to green before settling on red, and lets out a low sub-vocal rumble from the bottom of his chest.

 

Stiles gulps. That shouldn't be so hot, but _damn_.

 

Jackson lets out a tiny whimper under his breath and bares his throat instinctively, closing his eyes when he feels a clawed finger slowly give the side of his throat a single stroke. He hesitantly opens his eyes back up when Derek hooks that finger under his chin and makes him hold his Alpha's stare.

 

A moment or two passes, then Derek... _purrs_ for lack of a better word, and strokes the blond's cheek with the back of his fingers. He settles back in his seat as his other hand comes up to give the back of Stiles' neck a gentle squeeze, before sliding down the boy's back palm open - a clearly possessive gesture - to rest around his waist once more. 

 

There a beat of silence, before Lydia pointedly clears her throat and says to Erica, “So, you were talking about that bustier you saw?”

 

That snaps the others out of their daze and conversation resumes as if he and Jackson hadn't accidentally kissed and Derek didn't _just_ caress Jackson's face and neck. And because such is his life now, Stiles writes it off as a wolf-thing.

 

Soon after their orders arrive but before they dig in, Stiles decides to say 'fuck it' and speaks up, “Hey, guys? I, uh, have something to tell you.”

 

Derek, Lydia and Danny don't look surprised but everyone else looks up from their plates at that. “What's up, bro?” Scott asks.

 

He clears his throat nervously, shooting Derek a smile when the Alpha gives him an encouraging squeeze around his middle. “So, here's the thing. I met some new friends down at Jungle a few weeks ago and they convinced me to enter a competition, of sorts. I was wondering if you guys wanted to come.”

 

“Competition?” Erica raises an eyebrow.

 

Stiles grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeeeaaah.”

 

“What kind of competition?” Isaac chimes in. Boyd blinks at him, mildly curious. 

 

“Er, well it's...the, uhhh...it's...” he sighs and tells himself to suck it up, “ it'sJungle'sannualHalloweenDragShow,” he blurts out in one go, and even with supernatural hearing, the wolves still had trouble deciphering Stiles-speak. 

 

All except Scott that is, having years of practice under his belt.

 

“Drag?!” Scott's voice cracks when it goes up in octave in surprise. He blushes and ducks his head when the others shush him for being a little louder than necessary. 

 

“Huh,” Isaac muses, blinking guileless eyes at him, “When is it?”

 

“Uh, next Friday,” Stiles mutters, carefully taking in the pack's reaction.

 

Boyd looks unfazed by the news, giving Stiles a nod to say that he's in, Isaac and Jackson seem interested though the latter was trying not to show it, and Allison gives him a smile and a thumbs up.

 

Erica looks dangerously gleeful, “Stiles is gonna be a drag queen? Wouldn't miss that for the world.”

 

He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he'll take it.

 

Scott looks like he's slowly coming out of shock, no apparent disgust or horror in sight though he does appear confused, “Wait, does that mean Stiles is gonna wear makeup and stuff? Is that what I've been smelling? I always thought it was because you were with Lydia all the time.”

 

“Yes,” Derek speaks up unexpectedly beside him, leaning in to nose behind his ear, “and he looks stunning.”

 

That brings a pleased albeit embarrassed flush to Stiles' face.

 

Allison and Erica perk up. “Really?” the brunette giggles and claps her hands, “Oooh, I can't wait!”

 

“You've already seen?” Erica whines to her Alpha. Derek chuckles, making the pups stare at him in shock because Derek doesn't _do_ laughter. Or so they thought. 

 

“You do your own face?” Lydia asks, impressed. Stiles nods. “Glad to know someone taught you how,” she says in approval, “though I will reserve my final judgment until I see for myself.”

 

“He does makes a pretty lady,” Danny adds. Jackson huffs jealously.

 

“You too?! No fair!” the blonde bombshell pouts, before viciously attacking her burger.

 

Stiles laughs, a weight off his chest now that his secret is out, relieved to know that the pack has his back and are even looking forward to this weekend, “Don't worry, Erica. You'll see me soon enough.”

 

Scott turns to him, “Do you like it?”

 

Stiles smiles softly, thinking of his mom. “Yeah, I do.”

 

Scott beams at him then, “Then I'm in!” 

 

Isaac joins in, “Me too.”

 

“It's gonna be amazing,” says Danny, “It is every year, but I have a feeling this year especially.”

 

He playfully winks at Stiles, making the boy laugh. “Yeah, you know it!”

 

They spend the rest of time bantering back and forth and stuffing their faces, no morsel going to waste, because hello! _Werewolves_. 

 

At one point Stiles sees Jackson watching him eat with a strange intensity, even offers him a curly fry thinking he wanted some starchy goodness - which makes Scott pause because in all his years as Stiles' best friend he's never ever since the other boy share his fries voluntarily with _anyone_ , not even him – and the blond takes it. Right out of those long fingers he's been eying. With his mouth. 

 

Scott is rightly disturbed by how much he really _isn't_ at the sight. Beside him Allison's smile dimples, having learned werewolf behaviors to an extent, and Danny grins down at his plate. Lydia hides hers behind her smoothie and the pups blink owlishly. 

 

Then Erica and Isaac pout childishly in envy. Boyd slowly raises an eyebrow.

 

Stiles in the meantime takes no notice, too busy staring wide eyed and gaping at the omega before slowly offering up another fry. 

 

Jackson smirks, his eyes hooded, and takes the time to lick the salt off of Stiles' fingers, sucking off the traces of ketchup from them after eating the fry. It's obscene. And really rather hot. “Thanks,” he says casually, blue irises glowing softly as his wolf wriggles in happiness and preens under the attention.

 

“Uh huh,” Stiles says in a daze, swallowing a little, “no problem.”

 

He turns back to his plate robotically with the intent of demolishing the rest of his food, all the while his mind is going _dafuq just happened...?_

 

Inexplicably, he finds himself stealing a quick peek at Derek only to see the Alpha's red eyes already on them. 

 

Jackson moves closer to him then and hooks his chin onto Stiles' shoulder coyly, making quite the picture for Derek. Those red eyes narrow in thought. He makes a small wolfish sound in the back of his throat, almost as if seeking permission, and a low rumble erupts from his Alpha. Approval.

 

The pup yips happily and burrows his face into the crook of Stiles' neck. 

 

Stiles' hands flounder a little.

 

Dafuq just happen?! Did he miss something? Because there's obviously something to be missed here.

 

Stiles could feel Jackson smiling into his skin as he watches Derek watch them with appraising, almost proud, eyes.

 

 _Wolves._ Seriously.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He gets his answer on the way to his house. “Their wolves recognize the Alpha's intended,” Derek intones, “that's why they've been turning to you recently.” 

 

“Oh,” says Stiles, “Is that why the pups looked all scared and cowed when I went off on them?”

 

Derek nods, “Essentially you will become a second Alpha to the pack due to your status as Alpha-mate, but where I as head Alpha deal with the physical aspects concerning the pack, the Alpha-mate mostly handles the pack's emotional side of things.”

 

“Mate?” Stiles mumbles out, turning his head in time to see Derek grip the steering wheel tightly. 

 

Shit, he was going to tell Stiles all about mating after their courtship. 

 

“Yes,” Derek grunts out. “If you so choose. Usually after courting, the intended gets to decide whether or not the wolf courting them is worthy.”

 

Stiles tilts his head. “Don't wolves mate for life?”

 

Derek spares him a brief but pointed stare, “Yes.”

 

“Forever, huh. I figured,” he muses and turns to look out the window, a slow grin stretching across his face. After all, he did do his research after receiving that very first gift. “So that means you're stuck with me for eternity, right? No take-backs? Because, _hello?_ Have you looked in the mirror lately? I'd be crazy to turn down the sexiest, sweetest, most adorable Alpha to ever Alpha-ed. Worthy? _So_ worthy, dude. Are _you_ sure you want...well,” he gestures to himself, “ _me_?”

 

Derek's grip relaxes, relieved to sense how accepting and enthusiastic his mate to-be is. “Yes. You're the one I want, Stiles, the only one my wolf needs. You're everything both sides of me could ever ask for,” his white knuckled grip returns, “but that doesn't mean you have to accept me. If at any time you feel uncomfortable or don't want it anymore...you can always say no, okay? I don't want you to feel pressured-”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles exclaims with a ridiculously pleased grin, because all that hot hunk of werewolf right there in the driver's seat? Yeah, that's all going to be his. “I couldn't think of a better man to wolf-marry,” he says before pausing. “Wait. That means I'm pretty much officially stuck as den mother now, doesn't it?”

 

A small smile tugs at Derek's mouth, “You already fit into the role quite nicely.”

 

“Oh shut up, you just want to see me in the kitchen with an apron, you heathen.”

 

The smile morphs into a filthy smirk. “Guilty. And preferably naked under that apron.”

 

Stiles goes wide eyed and pink in the face at the mental images that immediately come to mind, and judging by the flared nostrils and flashing red eyes, Derek can smell where his thoughts were heading, and likes it. A lot. 

 

“Well!” his voice cracks and he clears his throat awkwardly, “duly noted.” 

 

A few moments pass in relatively compatible silence before Derek notices Stiles stewing over something else.

 

“What is it?” the Alpha asks.

 

“That doesn't really explain Jackson,” Stiles replies.

 

“Jackson is the pack omega, which means his wolf is the most submissive. It's natural for him to seek out protection from his Alphas where he feels the safest, in the case the rest of the pack get rowdy and try to bully him into doing their bidding.” Stiles remembers reading that a good Alpha never abuses their power to dominate, and always takes care of the needs of those under their leadership, especially their omegas.

 

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” It explains why the blond has been so...affectionate with him. 

 

“It's also because Jackson genuinely likes you too.”

 

Stiles squawks, “R-Really?” Wow, and here he thought the blond was only trying to curry his favor in exchange for pack immunity.

 

Derek smirks, “Yeah. I could smell it on him when he was all over you.”

 

“And that doesn't bother you?”  


A soft, sexy growl rumbles out of Derek, “Not at all. You're both pack.” _You're both mine_ , he doesn't say but Stiles turns a soft pink anyway as if he'd heard the unspoken words.

 

“Ah. Duly noted.”

 

They all pull up to his house and Scott parks the jeep in it's usual spot in the driveway. The pups get out as Derek and Stiles do the same with the camaro still running. 

 

The betas plus Allison all bid Stiles goodbye with hugs and kisses and squeezes to the shoulder before the trio get into the camaro and Scott and Allison join Danny and Lydia in Jackson's porsche. 

 

Stiles waltz right on over to the driver's side and taps on the glass, smiling when Jackson rolls down the window with a curious look on his face. 

 

He takes hold of that handsome face and brings his lips down to kiss the corner of Jackson's mouth, pulling away before the blond has time to react to rub their noses together, then lets go completely and takes a step back. He winks at Danny and laughs at the face Scott makes while Allison giggles like a little girl behind her hands and Lydia smiles deviously.

 

Jackson's trying to maintain his look of nonchalance but Stiles could see right through him, could see him try contain how shocked and elated he feels. His Alpha's mate has just returned his affections, after all.

 

“Drive safe now!” Stiles calls with a jaunty wave as he walks back towards Derek. 

 

The Alpha smiles at him and pulls him close for a kiss, “You do know that from now on, you'll have him following you around like an actual pup, don't you?”

 

Stiles lets out a dramatic sigh, “Oh the hardships of being me.” He does a hair flip. 

 

Derek laughs and Stiles shut him up with another kiss.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

That night Stiles finally updates his Facebook relationship status to “in a relationship” at last.

 

The entire pack 'likes' it.


	7. Alizarin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises like a zombie* I LIIIIIVE!!! 
> 
> Sorry about the wait, ran out of pre-written stuff and my muse deserted me yet again. RL hasn't been kind either, but! I finally banged this one out! Aren't ya glad?! 8D
> 
> SMUT FINALLY YEY!!!

 

Friday comes and goes and with it October's full moon.

 

The pack meeting turns into a movie night after frolicking in the woods to tire the wolves out and gorging themselves on pizza and Stiles' super-special-awesomely-delicious chocolate-chip cookies of melty-ooey-gooey-goodness (title and patent pending).

 

By the end of the night, Stiles finds himself in the middle of an epic cuddle-fest, tucked neatly in between Derek and Jackson. The Alpha is spooning behind him protectively with a beefy arm around his waist while the pup curls up against his chest with his head under his chin, Isaac draped over the omega as the rest of their pack lying close by within touching distance.

 

The next week flies by and even though they're all excited and have been waiting for the day, Halloween sneaks up on them.

 

After school, Stiles rushes home in order to prepare. He showers and shaves, making sure to get everywhere smooth and sleek. He applies moisturizing lotion that smells like apples all over his body and pulls on his favorite satin red bra and panty set with the black lace and matching garters. Then he rolls up his white stockings, shivering as the brush up against his sensitive skin, and squirms his way into his Little Red costume.

 

The doorbell rings when he's just finished zipping up the dress and his dad calls from downstairs, voice strained, “Uh...Stiles? You have some visitors.”

 

Oh, crap.

 

Stiles rushes down the stairs, nearly tripping and face planting when he spots Dom, dressed as Queen Cleopatra, gently patting his dad's bewildered face as the rest of the ladies coo at him from behind the tall caramel Egyptian goddess.

 

“Now I see where Stiles gets his good looks from,” Anita, all dolled up as a sexy devil, smiles and wiggles her finely plucked eyebrows flirtatiously at the Sheriff.

 

John flushes.

 

“And pardon me for being too forward, but what I would like to know is why a _fine_ gentleman like you is doing all by your lonesome,” Sugar Mama adds in her fabulously shimmering flapper dress.

 

“Dom!” Stiles squeaks out, “What are you ladies doing here?”

 

“To help you get ready, _duh_ ,” says Vegas show girl Crystal, chewing on her gum and blowing a bubble.

 

“But I don't need help!” he huffs, “Cassie and Paula showed me how not to mess up my eyeliner and everything last week!”

 

They ignore him. “Be a sweetie and get your make-up kit, pumpkin. Time to paint your face on!” cat-Amber claps her hands, claws clinking together daintily. “Chop chop!”

 

Meanwhile, his dad is attempting to sneakily creep away up the stairs but the twins latch onto him before he could escape.

 

“No, no, Stilinski-san must watch! It's tons of fun!” the two geishas tell him and drag him to the living room.

 

John shoots his son a look that's clearing screaming SOS but Stiles just shrugs, because if he has to suffer through this, so does his dad.

 

He goes to fetch his kit plus the rest of his things he needs in order to get ready, and by the time he returns to the living room, his dad is sitting in the middle of the couch blocked in close by Anita and Dom, face red with his hands folded in his lap.

 

Stiles groans, “Girls. Stop teasing my dad.”

 

Dom chuckles as Anita pouts, “Spoilsport.”

 

John hides his face in his hands.

 

“All right, enough fun and games,” Dom relents, “Time to get to work.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He ends up doing all the work himself with minimal coaching from the ladies, _told you Crystal._

 

After some finishing touch ups, he adjusts the hood over his wig and slips into his satin red ruched heels trimmed in black lace, turning to the room. He spreads his arms to the side, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Well?”

 

There's a pause as everyone soaks in the sight of him in full costume, taking in every detail from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes. It being the first time seeing Stiles in a dress since he was a tot, John steps up to him, eyes suspiciously wet with a nostalgic smile curving his lips, “Your mom would be so proud of you, kiddo.”

 

“Daaad...” Stiles brings his arms down and sniffs a little, “you're gonna make me cry, okay. Stop that. It's humiliating. Also, I don't want to redo my mascara.”

 

His dad hugs him tight which he returns just as strongly, and buss his forehead with a kiss, “Knock 'em dead.”

 

“Well, if that isn't just the most precious thang,” Sugar Mama sighs to Anita as the twins smile jubilantly. Amber hands Crystal a tissue so the tough broad can dab at her eyes to make sure her mascara isn't running.

 

“Just got something in my eye,” she grumbles but they all knew better.

 

The doorbell rings just then and Stiles looks at his father, confused. “Are we expecting someone?”

 

Dom, being the closest, answers the door. Her eyebrows go up, and she gets the same reaction from their new guests. “Ooh la la~”

 

Stiles cranes his neck to try and see, “Who is it, Dom?”

 

His dad coughs, embarrassed, “That would be my dates.”

 

Stiles does a double take and almost gives himself whiplash. “Date? No wait, _dates?_ As in plural?” He notices for the first time that his dad is wearing his good slacks, the ones he only wears for special occasions, and a perfectly pressed blue button-up. Let's not forget the fancy dress shoes. “Why didn't you tell me?!”

 

Dom takes that moment to step aside and Stiles jaw drops. Because really?!

 

Dressed in similarly semi-formal clothes, Chris gives him a half smirk and Peter waves at him from the doorway. The smarmy bastards.

 

Chris raises a brow at Stiles' outfit as Peter lets out a low whistle, “Looking good, Stilinski.” Stiles isn't sure which Stilinski he's talking to, and by the looks of it, neither does his dad.

Awkward.

 

“He totally did that on purpose,” Stiles mutters.

 

“Yeah, he does that,” his dad sighs, but clasps his shoulder, “We'll talk later, Stiles. Have a nice night, okay? Take pictures!”

 

“But Dad! Chris and Peter?! Do you know-” he cuts himself off, horrified, “You don't even _know,_ do you. _Shit!_ ”

 

“Language,” John say automatically. He sighs again, “Look, Stiles. They told me everything.”

 

Stiles' eyes go wide. “Everything?” he asks weakly.

 

John nods. “Everything.” His blue eyes soften, “We'll talk later, okay? Are we good?”

 

Stiles gives him a lopsided smile, and hugs his dad one last time. “Yeah, dad. We're great. Have a good time. Or try to at least.”

 

Peter sniffs and places a hand over his heart, “You _wound_ me, Stiles.”

 

“I'll do a lot worse if you don't treat him right,” Stiles threatens, shaking a fist at him.

 

Peter's laughing eyes turn serious, “You have my word.”

 

Stiles blinks, surprised. He didn't know how good a word that is yet, but judging from that, he's tentatively approving and will take what he can get. He turns to Chris and points two fingers at his own eyes before pointing them at Chris. Like before, the hunter raises his hands in a gesture of peace, all with that damnable amused smirk on his face.

 

“We'll look after him, Sheriff,” Amber pipes up, “Now you go have fun! I know I would.”

 

The ladies catcall and wolf-whistle as a red-faced John goes to greet Chris and Peter.

 

Just before Dom shuts the door for them, Stiles could see Chris leaning in close for a kiss hello and Peter's hand sliding down and goosing his dad, making him jump. Stiles scrunches his nose because ohmygod, _ew_. Why.

 

Anita sighs forlornly, “What I wouldn't give to join in on all of that hot man action.”

 

“Ohmygod!” Stiles flails, “No, ew, stop. That's my middle-aged father you are talking about here. I don't need the mental trauma!”

 

“But he ages so well! Like a fine wine,” Dom muses teasingly.

 

“Dom!” The girls laugh at him as he pouts before helping him clean up and gathering their things, making sure to leave candy out in a large bowl with a “Please take two!” sign on the porch for trick-or-treaters.

 

“Show time, girls!” Dom calls when they're ready to go and the ladies holler, ushering Stiles out the door.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Derek and the pack show up to Jungle just as the night is in full swing. They walk right up to the door and the bouncer takes one good look at the them before he lets them in without a fuss.

 

The Alpha lets his pups loose once they're inside - giving Jackson a quick cheek nuzzle when the omega sidles up to him, and a playful little slap to the ass making the pup yelp just as Lydia tugs him away to dance – and then is immediately on the hunt for Stiles, looking to see if he could catch a glimpse of his mate before the show begins. He knows he's near, an innate sixth sense helping to guide him through the sea of bodies and noise and flashing lights when sight and sound and smell fail him due to the sheer number of people who showed up tonight.

 

He closing in on where he thinks Stiles might be when he runs into a stunningly gorgeous Cleopatra.

 

Heavily coal-rimmed eyes meet his straight on.

 

“You must be Derek,” the sensual French accent easily slides over to Derek's ears over the music and something about that has the wolf suddenly on edge. “I am Dominique. Stiles has told me quite a lot about you.”

 

“I could say the same,” Derek replies cautiously and Dominique's smile is full of teeth.

 

“Come, we have things to discuss,” the Queen says and leads him to a relatively quiet area that will provide a little more privacy.

 

“This is about Stiles,” he states bluntly, not beating around the bush. It's not a question.

 

“Correct,” the other nods, getting to the point, “When I found him, he had so much potential. Not just for fun and silly drag shows such as the one we are having tonight, but bigger and better things in the near future. I took him under my wing and shaped some of that potential and for that, Stiles is almost like a son to me. He iz special. You will do well to remember that.”

 

Her eyes flash with something otherworldly and Derek's hackles rise. His own eyes bleed to red in response, fangs itching to break free through his gums before he unclenches his jaw and takes a deep breath.

 

This is one of Stiles' friends who is only showing her concern, supernatural creature or not. It wouldn't do to cause a scene and upset his mate.

 

Dominique watches him calm himself down with almost approving eyes, like a parent. “Take care of him, wolf.”

 

Derek gives a curt nod, “I will.”

 

Dominique's smile is now soft, almost motherly, “Come,” she says, leading him to meet the rest of the ladies, “The show is about to start.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles is backstage, mentally preparing himself for what he is about to do. He's one of last acts to go and the queen ahead of him is just finishing up her routine.

 

Soon he hears the DJ announce his stage name and then the howling intro of a dark, sultry remix (thanks Danny!) of 'Little Red Riding Hood' by Laura Gibson starts to play through the club speakers.

 

He takes a deep breath, letting go of Stiles and embracing Scarlet as she opens her eyes and smiles, thinking of Derek.

 

Show time.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The music begins and curtains part to reveal his beautiful mate, and Derek could feel his wolf start to salivate, crimson irises greedily drinking in the sight of Stiles – no Scarlet in all her glory.

 

Amber eyes hone in on his own brightly glowing orbs through the darkness, and Scarlet's face lights up the room. She smiles, just for him.

 

“ **Hey there little red riding hood** ,” she sings to him, slowly stalking down the catwalk,  
“ **You sure are looking good**  
**You're everything a big bad wolf could want**.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“ **What big eyes you have**  
**The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad**  
**Just to see that you don't get chased**  
**I think I oughta walk with you for a ways** ”

 

She sings and twirls and dips and bends provocatively, slinking confidently from one end of the stage to the next on those hot little heels of hers as the crowd goes crazy and howls along with the song.

 

Across the room near the bar she could see the florescent yellow and neon blue eyes of the pack watching her while their Alpha's intense red gaze never leave her form from his seat by where she knows the ladies are also sitting and cheering her on.

 

“ **Little red riding hood**  
**I'd like to hold you if I could**  
**But you might think I'm a big bad wolf so I won't**

 

 **What a big heart I have**  
**The better to love you with**  
**Little red riding hood**  
**Even bad wolves can be good**

 

There's a stripper pole in the middle of the stage and she sashays in time with the music, giving it a naughty little grind and flashes the crowd a little as her dress rides up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin and silk and lace.

 

 **What full lips you have**  
**They're sure to lure someone bad**  
**So until you get to Grandma's place**  
**I think you oughta walk with me and be safe...** ”

 

The music comes to an end. She curtsies and gives her audience a saucy wink, blows a kiss before slowly spinning on her heel and sauntering off stage.

 

Behind her the crowd roars, her pack the loudest of them all.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She takes a step into the club from backstage and is immediately met with fans of the performance.

 

“That was so hot,” one guy says, his fairy wings gleaming under the strobe lights.

 

“Yeah, I really liked the different approach you took with yours,” says another dressed as a merman, “The music was an excellent choice, definitely fits the vibe you got going on, girl.”

 

“Totally,” the third says, a scantily clad cowboy.

 

Scarlet smiles, “Why thank you! I'm glad you boys enjoyed it.”

 

The three proceed to compliment her costume, the merman severely impressed to know it was handmade by Sugar Mama while the cowboy asks her about her shoes, that is until they suddenly fall quiet and Scarlet senses a familiar presence behind her.

 

Two big hands take hold of her hips and a broad, solid body presses right up against her back, a nose moving into her hood to lightly scent the side of her face. She moans a little and bares her neck for him in response.

 

“Hey, Little Red,” the newcomer rumbles. Scarlet shivers.

 

Turning around in his arms, she coyly smiles up into wild crimson eyes.

 

“Hey, Big Bad,” she murmurs back, smiling. “I like the ears.” She fingers the soft fuzzy appendages that blend in shockingly well with his raven hair. She peeks over his shoulder, “Ooh, and you even have a tail to match!”

 

“Erica,” he grunts then nudges her to face him and hooks a finger under her chin, dragging her into a sloppy little kiss that leaves her panting.

 

Nipping at his bottom lip in retaliation, she gets a low growl in reply.

 

“Holy shit,” the fairy exclaims.

 

“Fuck, that's hot,” the cowboy groans, holding onto his hat.

 

Merman seems flushed. “ _Daaamn_.”

 

“Hm...” Big Bad purrs deep in his throat, nuzzling her close. She giggles and pets his chest. “If you all don't mind, I'm going to steal this one away for the rest of the night.” Red eyes flash open and stare the three down unblinkingly.

 

They shake their heads frantically.

 

“Not at all!”

 

“Go right on ahead.”

 

“She's all yours!”

 

“Damn right she is,” Big Bad growls.

 

“Now, now. Play nice,” Scarlet scolds, pout softening when her wolf kisses her temple in apology. She smiles at the three. “Forgive him. He gets jealous easily.”

 

Big Bad gives them a toothy, positively wolfish grin, fangs glinting.

 

“Sure thing.”

 

“Not a problem.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Scarlet lets herself be pulled away, calling out with a friendly wave, “Hope you boys enjoy the rest of your night!” before she disappears into the crowd with her hulking werewolf Adonis.

 

The three stare after them with open mouths for a moment before looking at each other.

 

“Well, fuck.”

 

“Hot damn.”

 

“That lucky bitch!”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Derek crowds him up against a wall the first chance he gets after they manage to snag one of the private rooms upstairs courtesy of Jake, who had handed Stiles the key with a knowing wink and a “Go get 'im, girlfriend!”

 

He'd blushed and dragged a rather handsy Derek – who at the time had been preoccupied with mouthing the side of his neck like he couldn't get enough - up the stairs as fast as his little red heels would allow, an Alpha werewolf firmly attached to his backside.

 

Now Derek has him right where he wants him, pinned in place with his hands clenching the lapels of his signature leather jacket and rutting helplessly against a sturdy denim clad thigh, the wolf's nose buried in his neck and breathing in great big lungfuls of _mate_ and _home_.

 

“Derek,” Stiles moans and bares his throat further, face and body growing hot with arousal when he feels Derek slide a big warm hand up his skirt, caressing the soft smooth skin of his thigh with the barest hint of claw.

 

“You shaved.”

 

“Ah – hn! - the girls m-made me.” He whimpers a little when Derek hitches his leg around his waist and cups his bottom in both hands, pressing him further into the wall with a slow torturous grind of his hips. Fuck, that's hot; so he has a thing for being manhandled. Don't judge.

 

A nose is pressed to his temple. “All over?”

 

Stiles smiles and bites his lip when Derek's growl deepens, “You're just going to have to find out and see, aren't you?”

 

“Guess I am,” Derek murmurs, “Gonna be a good girl for me then?”

 

A shiver goes straight down his spine and Stiles lets out a soft keen, “ _Yes_.” He wants to be the best girl for his Alpha, wants to be Derek's girl.

 

Red eyes flare up in the dark when Derek takes a deep breath through his nose and smells just how much Stiles wants it, how much he wants to be good. “Mm, the things I want to _do to you_ ,” the wolf whispers savagely before swooping in and devouring Stiles' mouth for his own.

 

“ _Mmh-_ ” Stiles moans, undulating his hips, wanting more; he needs _more_. “Derek,” he begs.

 

He jumps when a finger traces the edge of his panties under the curve of his ass, callous catching on lace before Derek is suddenly _down,_ hiking his dress up to his waist and rumbles deep in his chest at the pretty picture of Stiles' cock twitching, trapped beneath red satin.

 

“Beautiful,” the wolf growls and pushes his face into the apex of his mate's thighs, inhaling deep. “So beautiful, baby girl.”

 

Stiles blushes, squeaking in surprise when Derek mouths and licks at him through his panties, whimpers high and needy, knees weak as the wolf rubs his scruffy cheek against his cloth covered cock. _God_ , how he _wants_.

 

Two claws trail up his legs to hook into the sides of his hiphuggers and slowly, oh so slowly begin to drag them down, leaving faint red lines that stand out against Stiles' light smooth skin. Derek takes the time to unclip his garters and resumes relieving Stiles of his underwear before reclipping them in place - because they're sexy as fuck on Stiles' pretty twink legs - and stuffing the panties into his pocket with a naughty glint in his eye.

 

Stiles gulps, blushes deeply, and bites his lip.

 

“D-Derek,” he starts but doesn't get to finish, “Ah!” His hands fly into soft black hair when he's slid up the wall, Derek burrowing further in between his thighs and maneuvering past his legs until they're resting on Derek's shoulders and he's off his feet completely, red heels resting against the Alpha's broad back.

 

Derek groans. “Mm...”

 

A startled noise leaves the boy as Derek cradles his ass in his hands and a warm wet tongue licks Stiles from root to tip in one broad stripe, making him squirm against the wall before he's arching sharply, a loud gasp leaving his open mouth when Derek suddenly swallows him whole without preamble. The man just couldn't wait any longer; he needs a taste. _Now._

 

“Derek!” Stiles' legs kick out at the air in uselessly.

 

The Alpha growls around his mouthful and Stiles can't stop _shaking_.

 

“ _Please,_ ” he cries, hands holding Derek's head in place as he thrusts desperately into the hot tight vacuum of Derek's mouth.

 

Derek takes him easily and a choked little moan escapes him when the wolf swallows again. And again, and _again,_ his dick painfully sensitive to the moist, constricting channel of Derek's throat.

 

Derek groans hungrily, high off the sight and smell of his mate absolutely losing it. He fondles the ass in his palms, squeezing and massaging and teasing at the rim with a finger tip until Stiles is all but sobbing for release.

 

At this rate Stiles' not going to last much longer, not much at all.

 

“Derek-” he starts to warn breathlessly but Derek just hums, and then suddenly there's a dry finger rubbing firmly at his hole and he is going, going... _gone_. “ _ **Derek!**_ ”

 

Back bowing, he cums long and loud, but Derek's waiting for him, suckling greedily until Stiles is left convulsing in spurts against the wall as he slowly comes down from his sex high.

 

“Mmh, you _animal_ ,” he slurs as Derek pulls off of him with a wet indecent 'pop', “Fuck, I think you broke me.”

 

Derek doesn't say anything; just licks his lips shiny, smirking that fucking sexy smirk of his and rubs his scruff all over Stiles' inner thighs like a big territorial cat, leaving red scratchy patches on his skin before looking up at his mate with lidded, simmering red eyes.

 

Stiles coos and pets him adoringly, “Was it good for you?”

 

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?”

 

Derek softly snorts, letting Stiles' legs slip off before gracefully rising to his feet before slinking up Stiles' body to capture his lips for a filthy little kiss. “You were such a good girl for me, Little Red,” he says, nosing his mate's face affectionately, “so pretty and responsive. My perfect baby girl. I loved it.”

 

Stiles blushes but makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and smiles coyly, “I'm glad, Big Bad. Heh. That rhymed!”

 

Derek rolls his eyes fondly.

 

Stiles laughs, “My orgasm was five out of five stars, FYI. Must definitely do again, preferably some time soon.”

 

Derek smiles devilishly.

 

Stiles' hands drift down to Derek's zipper, gently ghosting over the straining erection confined in its denim prison. He looks into those glowing pools of red, blinking innocently, “Now what about you?”

 

“Hmm,” the Alpha narrows his eyes before he carefully unhooks the red hood and lets it drop to the floor beside them. He's leans close, whispering low in his ear, “turn around for me?”

 

Stiles doesn't even have to think about it; he immediately obeys, bracing himself against the wall and pushing his ass out without prompting which pleases the wolf to no end.

 

“Good girl,” Derek croons, making him moan before the man's down on his knees once more looking positively _ravenous_. “Spread your legs for me.”

 

Stiles blushes but does as he's told.

 

Derek flips the dress up and out of the way, takes a moment to appreciate the bared ass in front of his face and couldn't help but give it a quick smack. He smirks when Stiles yelps and wriggles from the delicious little sting, and frames Stiles' bum in his hands, starts to massage the soft supple flesh in slow circles.

 

The boy's moaning softly and he continues to squeeze and fondle him before Stiles shudders and goes limp, letting the pleasure wash over his senses.

 

Stiles couldn't stop the embarrassing noise he makes when Derek pushes his cheeks apart with his thumbs and gives his hole a long teasing lick, his dick taking renewed interest in these recent events.

 

“D-Derek...” Leaning further into the wall, he arches his back and sticks his ass out for more of whatever Derek is willing to give him.

 

The wolf growls in approval, taking the hint, and eagerly buries his face into Stiles' crevice.

 

Stiles whines high and needy as Derek eats him out, pushing back into Derek's face as his own grows hot with renewed arousal.

 

Wet sloppy sounds are heard and Derek groans deeply, sucking at his hole, circling it with the tip of his tongue. He gathers as much spit as he can before plunging it straight in with a slick _'shulp'_.

 

Stiles bites his lip and keens as he rocks his hips back and grinds his ass into Derek's face. He feels stubble brushing against his sensitive skin, shivers 'cause it feels so good, and imagines what he'll look like in the morning. Not that he's complaining. Not at _all_.

 

“Derek!” he cries out suddenly when Derek digs his teeth into the meat of one butt cheek before the wolf's honing in once more, jabbing his tongue into his hole with quick little flicks at the end, then goes back to circling and sucking at his rim again. Stiles' legs are trembling, trying to keep himself standing as Derek is slowly, deliberately trying to drive him out of his goddamn _mind_.

 

His cock is now up and raring to go once again, but Derek ignores it for now in favor of making love to his pucker with that wicked mouth of his.

 

When he starts to think he's going to cum again untouched just like this, Derek pulls away all together in order to stand, the meanie.

 

He whines in protest at this new development, “Dereeek!”

 

Derek spanks him, making him mewl.

 

“Hush,” says Derek, that hot voice all dark and rumbly and doing things to Stiles that makes him squirm in place as Derek unzips his pants and pulls out his dick.

 

“Please,” he whispers softly and Derek growls low, jacking himself a couple times to get his dick wet with precum before moving in to press up tight against Stiles' supplicating body, big warm hands spreading his cheeks apart again and dick sliding against the crack of his ass.

 

“Look at you,” Derek murmurs, “All hot and bothered, just waiting for me to eat. You. Up.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust against Stiles' hole, making it sloppy, and relishing in the noises his boy is making.

 

“ _Yes._ Please, fuck me,” Stiles pleads, tilting his head when Derek nips at his ear and bares his throat for more. So vulnerable. So trusting.

 

“I'm not going to fuck you, Stiles,” Derek says then, smirking when Stiles sputters in his arms, “Not here anyway, not tonight. I made a promise to your father to wait. At least until our courtship is over.”

 

“Oh my god, dude, are you for real? I can't believe you; don't ruin the mood by talking about my dad,” Stiles groans, then yelps when Derek's hand slides around front to pull at his fully hardened dick.

 

“Oh, I don't know,” Derek says conversationally, “seems like you're still in the mood to me.”

 

“Dereeek!” Stiles whines petulantly, thrusting his hips back to feel the slippery slide of Derek's cock in between his cheeks, “You bastard, stop being a tease!”

 

He pouts when he hears Derek laughing under his breath. “Well if you aren't going to bang me, just what are you going to do then, oh Alpha, my Alpha?”

 

With his wolf rumbling happily at Stiles' acknowledgment of his status, Derek presses in close and noses his cheek, gripping his hips firmly, “Just because I'm not going to mount you right this second, doesn't mean I'm not going to claim you, make you _mine._ ”

 

“ _Hngh,_ well when you put it that way-” Stiles cuts himself off, a distinctly whorish moan rising out of him when Derek pulls back a bit and fingers his wet hole.

 

He couldn't stop himself from grinding back onto Derek's hand as the man starts to fuck him with his fingers, slick with spit and precum. “A-ah, Derek-”

 

“Can't wait to fuck you for real,” Derek confesses in a low throaty voice, “Mmm, I'd do it properly too, hold you down and make you _take it_ like a good little bitch until you're sore and full and beg me to stop.”

 

He goes hot all over. “Hnh, Derek _please,_ ” he mewls, body wanton, “So close.”

 

“Yeah, that's it,” murmurs Derek, “Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl and cum for your Alpha.”

 

“Ahn-!” He does as he's told and releases all over Derek's hand, the wolf catching all of his cum in his palm and brings it up to his mouth.

 

Derek catches his gaze and licks his hand, eyes flashing red and Stiles whimpers pathetically, dick trying valiantly but only manages a small twitch.

 

“Total _animal_ ,” he slurs, then keens in the back of his throat when Derek grabs his own cock still covered in Stiles' cum.

 

The wolf starts to jerk off, Alpha red eyes still holding Stiles captive as he beats his dick off unceremoniously until he finally tosses his head back and cums with a snarl, striping Stiles' ass and the back of his thighs in white, sticky ropes.

 

“Fuck, that shouldn't be so hot,” Stiles breathes, licking his lips, wanting a taste.

 

“Mmm...”

 

Derek's purring again which just tickles Stiles to no end and the wolf starts to rub his cum into Stiles skin, almost willing it to stay there permanently so his mate would smell of him and them together at all times.

 

Stiles chooses not to comment. He's discovering just how kinky werewolves can be. Maybe it's an Alpha thing, or even just a Derek thing. Not that he's complaining. Not at _all._

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Sadly, they're eventually forced to find a nearby restroom, which is thankfully attached to the bedroom with a bed they didn't even get to _use_ \- Stiles pouts over this as Derek chuckles – and clean up.

 

Stiles is glad to see that the beard burn on his face wasn't too bad and his make up was still on point. His neck on the other hand looks like it got mauled by a wild animal, which it did. He laughs and Derek shoots him a unimpressed look like he knows what he's thinking.

 

When they're relatively decent, Derek grabs Stiles' hood from the floor and with a flourish, drapes it back onto his head and shoulders.

 

“Show off,” he teases and Derek shuts him up with a kiss before they head back downstairs.

 

He tosses the keys back to Jake who notices the marks and hickeys and gives him a playful cat-call of “Ow-ooow!”

 

Laughing, he tugs Derek off to find the pups, only to discover after a quick scan of the club that the ladies had found them first.

 

Dom and Anita have Danny (dressed in an awesome glow-in-the-dark Tron suit) and Jackson (a dashing period vampire) in between them, the French femme fatale pinching Danny's cheeks and crooning over his dimples as Anita gushes over Jackson's cheekbones.

 

Sugar Mama is regaling the trio of Olympic gods with a enthralling story judging by their faces, and she even manages to pull a smile from Boyd (Zeus) as Erica (Aphrodite) and Isaac (Hermes) howl with laughter.

 

Lydia as Poison Ivy is talking shop with Crystal and Amber, trading tips and tricks and shopping secrets while Scott (Robin III) and Allison (Hawkeye) are with the twins, who flank a tall broad blond man dressed as a shirtless sailor, a sailor's navy blue collar trimmed in a white stripe tied around his neck and jaunty white sailor's hat sitting rakishly in his short blond spikes. His muscular arms are snaked around the twins, big broads hands resting low on their hips. That must be Caleb.

 

Amber spots them first, “Well, well, well~! Look what I dragged in!” she exclaims gleefully, curling his hand under her chin and swiping her paw in the air, “Meeeow~!”

 

The ladies holler and the pack joins in as Stiles blushes and sticks his tongue out at all of them 'cause he's mature like that before leading Derek to an open leather chair seemingly reserved for them. He sits the wolf down and plops right onto his lap and gets comfortable, an arm around Derek's shoulders. He wiggles happily when Derek curls his own possessive arm around his hips, one sneaky hand slipping under his dress to caress the bare skin of his thigh.

 

His panties were still tucked away in Derek's pocket and he takes unholy glee in that knowledge.

 

Derek rumbles contently, nosing at his neck, before allowing himself to relax in his seat.

 

Dom eyes them appraisingly, “You are just in time, _cherie_. Intermission is almost over.”

 

“Our time has come, girlfrands,” Sugar Mama announces, “Let's show 'em how it's done!”

 

The ladies go crazy as their music starts and they stand, clearing a path to the stage.

 

The pack gathers around Caleb to watch and cheer them on, and Derek hides his grin in Stiles' wig.

 

“ **I put a spell on you,”** he sings along into his mate's ear, **“and now you're** _ **mine...**_ **”**

 

Stiles gives him a beautiful smile and wraps himself around the wolf like an octopus, kissing him wholeheartedly.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The ladies take a bow and the crowd gives them a standing ovation.

 

“Give it up for Jungle's Queens as they reign supreme once more!” the DJ cheers, “And now, it's time to announce the winners of this year's Halloween Drag Show Competition.”

 

The crowd hushes as he pulls out a sealed envelope and opens it, taking out the card stock within, “Let's see here...”

 

Clearly his throat, he says next, “And the winners are...In the Professional Division: the Gemini twins, Cassie and Paula!”

 

The crowd whoops and claps, their group the loudest as the twins squeal and glomp Caleb, peppering kisses onto his face as the marine squeezes them tight, so proud of his girls.

 

They leave him with one last hug and skip off to the stage to take their crowns and sashes and flowers and envelope with a check inside.

 

The DJ finishes clapping and reads off the next name, “In the Standard Division: Ms. Cellanius!”

 

Loud applause rises as the Queen of Hearts takes to stage and waves at the crowd like a proper queen would, hilariously pompous air and all, much to the crowd's amusement. She winks at them before scampering over to the twin geishas, hugging them congratulations.

 

“Annnnnd last, but certainly not least,” the DJ pauses dramatically before calling out the final name, “The winner of the Dabbler Division: Miss Little Red Riding Hood herself, Scarlet!”

 

Stiles gapes, not believing it even as the ladies and the pack descend on him in excitement and the crowd screams and howls, Derek standing behind him as a wolfy pillar of support throughout it all.

 

They all urge him up toward the stage, the Alpha right there with him as he accepts his crown and his prizes from the former winner of last year's competition.

 

“Kiss!” someone shouts, and before long the whole crowd is chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

 

Who was he to deny what they want?

 

Turning to Derek, the Alpha merely raises a brow at the mischief curling his mouth before fondly rolling his red eyes at him and pulling up to his chest, hand on his ass and dipping him dramatically for a long open mouthed kiss much to the crowd's delight.

 

Why not indulge and give them a show while they're at it?

 

“Woohoo, steamy! Anyways, here are your winners for this year, folks!” the DJ announces, which breaks them apart. The twins and Ms. Cellanius drag them into a group hug. “Thank you to all the lovely ladies tonight for the spectacular show, but now it's time to PART-AY!”

 

The crowd cheers. Time to get their groove on!

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They spend the rest of the night dancing away, Jake being awesome behind the bar and plying them all with alcohol, which was hysterically ironic seeing as the man was dressed up like a police officer, though he makes sure they don't go too overboard.

 

The pack finally has the chance to congratulate him on the win with jubilant hugs and kisses before he's swept away onto the dance floor, shimmying and gyrating with all of his friends. He even got Boyd to slow dance with him at one point. Total win.

 

As the night wears on, he finds himself in the middle of a blond werewolf sandwich, Isaac hugging him from behind with his face buried in his neck and Jackson all pressed up his front and making out with him, their strong arms wrapped around him holding him steady.

 

He pulls back from Jackson with one last lick to his fangs and leans back on Isaac as they sway together, taking in the flush highlighting Jackson's cheeks, his wet swollen pink lips, and glowing blue eyes.

 

The omega presses his face to Stiles' neck opposite Isaac and Stiles pets his hair, the other hand resting on the back of Isaac's thigh under his toga.

 

He looks up, meets heated red eyes staring at him from across the dance floor, and hums happily.

 

_Win._

 


	8. Sanguine

 

The night is cool and brisk, and Stiles rubs his hands together before shoving them into the pockets of favorite red hoodie.

 

It's been a couple weeks since the competition, fall slowly turning over to winter. 

 

Stiles still often keeps in contact with the ladies on a regular basis, going out to see them a few days a week either at Jungle or the Diner or their own homes, and usually the pack is in tow for at least one of those days to dance and party or just to hang out and watch a movie (or makeover parties. Which ever comes up first).

 

It's quickly becoming Stiles' favorite thing, his Queen friends and his pack all in one place having a good time, especially when they're at Jungle. 

 

Stiles and Jackson - having bonded and gotten closer over the greatness that is Lydia Martin, lacrosse, pool, and strangely enough strawberry twizzlers - have taken to dancing together a lot of the time, gaining more that just a few appreciative eyes on them when they sway and grind their hips together erotically, two sexy little twinks pressed up all close and personal, wrapped up in each other's arms and sometimes making out playfully (Because friends like them make out all time, right? Right.) in plain sight of their typically brooding Alpha. They make it known too, if the coy smiles they shoot his way from across the dance floor are any indication. 

 

The two have this little game to see how long it will take Derek to come and join them, the grumpy wolf not liking to dance but can move quite well when he has to, like when an interloper who doesn't know any better approaches his boys with a greedy look in his eye.

 

The Alpha usually scares any trespassers away though, much to the amusement of Jungle's regular patrons like Jake and the ladies. Stiles and Jackson will trade secret smirks, succeeding in getting the older man to dance with them at least for a little while.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It's been a couple weeks and Stiles' crown and sash are placed high on a shelf in his room at the Hale house, glittering merrily in the light of the full moon.

 

He's currently outside in the wide open backyard of the Hale house and pulls up his sleeve to check his new expensive custom-made Batman watch that had been sitting on his desk that morning (Jackson's apparently taking a page out of his Alpha's book).

 

“They back yet?” his dad calls, coming out of the grand open kitchen through the sliding door with two steaming mugs of coffee, black and strong just how the Stilinski men like it.

 

“Not yet,” Stiles replies, taking the mug handed to him, “Thanks, Dad.”

 

“Mhmm,” the Sheriff nods, and they both take a sip. 

 

“Ahhh,” they sigh out at the same time, their breath fogging up in front of their faces in the cold night air. 

 

“So,” John starts, “Werewolves.”

 

Stiles nods, taking another sip, “Yep. Werewolves.”

 

His dad hums, “Is Derek still showering you with gifts?”

 

“Yep,” he says, popping his 'p' at the end, “I think it's a bit of instinct, you know? In the animal kingdom, males court their potential mates by showing that they can provide for them; food, shelter, and protection from rivals and enemies. In the modern human world, a lot of it translates to fanciful things money can by.” He takes a breath and gulps down more liquid caffeine goodness. 

 

His dad nods, “Makes sense.”

 

“Mhmm. Why just today, I got a new watch from Jackson. I think he's following in Derek's footsteps.” He flashes the watch at his dad.

 

John whistles, having learned all about omegas among other things from Peter's explanations on werewolf society. He squints a little, spotting a little crown about the stylized Batman insignia on the watch face. “Wait, is that a Rolex? Wow.”

 

“Yeah I know, right? I almost tripped and sprained something when I saw the box. You?”

 

His dad snorts, “You do that every day.” He ignores Stiles indignant squawk, “Anyway, Peter's 'gift' to me was upgrading my wardrobe when he found out I haven't really gone out shopping for myself since the 90's.”

 

Stiles grins, “Oh man, I can only imagine how appalled he was when he found your acid washed denim jackets, neon trainers, tweed suits and jorts.”

 

His dad lets out an affronted noise, “Hey! I'll have you know I was the hippest trend setter in my day. Peter only cried in despair a total of one time after going through my closet, and then _I_ cried when he dragged Chris along and took me out to the nearest fancy men's boutiques. Not to mention we ended up scouring the entire mall on top of that.” John gulps down some more coffee. “And what the heck are jorts?”

 

“Jean shorts, dad. Keep up with the times.”

 

John shakes his head and mock-sniffs, “Kids these days. No respect.”

 

“Whatever, old man,” Stiles ducks away laughing when his dad takes a half-hearted swipe at his head. He grins and straightens up with a thought. “Hey, out of curiosity, has Chris taken Peter's lead and get you anything special?”

 

“Chris took it upon himself to upgrade my gun cabinet.”

 

Stiles stares, “Seriously?”

 

John smiles dreamily, “Yep.”

 

“Oh my god, of course he would,” he groans, palming his face, “Guns = protection. Why didn't I see that coming?”

 

John chuckles. 

 

Father and son drain their mugs as they talk werewolf mating rituals, and just as they set their empty cups down onto a nearby patio table stocked with the necessary items for a night such as this (fluffy towels, bottled water, large Tupperware containers...), laughing about nesting and den making, there's rustling in the bushes and soon emerge their wayward werewolves, grisled and covered in blood.

 

The dark towering figure of Derek's Alpha form looms closer, Peter in his beta form not far behind him, before the Alpha shifts his hulking shoulder and carefully drops his heavy burden in front of Stiles. Beside him, Peter does the same.

 

It's a stag, an impressive 14 points by Stiles' count, it's throat cleanly sliced through resulting in a quick and painless death. Peter's kill is an older full grown doe that looks like she had lived a good while and must have not been able to keep up with her herd before Peter took her down. The once-insane wolf wasn't so cruel as to take one of the younger does who might have fawned that year.

 

“Ah,” is all Stiles can say as his dad's eyebrows raise into his hairline before both Hales are changing, Peter's face smoothing out as Derek shrinks down to normal size, fur receding to reveal sleek naked skin. 

 

Glowing wolf eyes stare at their respective mates expectantly.

 

John takes that as his cue to speak up, “Well, it looks like we'll be eating venison for a while. A good time to cook up some burgers and steaks then.”

 

Stiles turns from staring at the dead animal in front of him and glares at his dad, “Your diet doesn't allow venison.”

 

“Oh come on, son, it'll be rude if I don't eat at least some of it,” John wheedles as Stiles crosses his arms stubbornly. 

 

He opens his mouth to argue but is distracted by blood covered muscles heading his way. Did he mention that Derek's totally naked? Because he is, seeing as transforming into his full Alpha form doesn't allow for silly things such as clothing. It'll only tear off and get in the way anyhow. 

 

He's thankful that Peter and the rest of the pack prancing around in the preserve are wearing some shorts or at least their skivvies. 

 

Mindful of the blood, Derek takes Stiles into his strong arms, crimson eyes gleaming while Peter stalks his way towards John. 

 

Supernatural cerulean meets soft worn blue, and Peter lets out a low purr when John quirks a smile at him and cups his face in a broad calloused palm. The oldest beta leans and nuzzles into it, kissing the meat of John's thumb and nipping playfully. His Sheriff chuckles.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Suddenly a gunshot cuts through the stillness of the night not far from where they stand idle.

 

The two wolves simultaneously let out a lip-curling snarl and slip back into their more feral natures, taking off towards the sound inside their territory and so close to the house.

 

Father and son trade startled looks before running after them.

 

They reach a small clearing and see Peter shift back before running over to Chris, who looks a little worse for wear. John hurries over to them.

 

Stiles looks to Derek who is still in Alpha form sniffing and inspecting a very much dead mountain lion of all things with his lupine snout, a clean bullet hole through the side of its head. 

 

Chris gestures to it with his rifle, “Not a deer, but it'll do.”

 

“Show off,” Peter grumbles but there's clear relief on his face.

 

After fretting over him and looking for injuries, John punches the hunter in the arm, “Don't do that to me again, you ass. Courtship traditions be damned, it's not gonna work if the one doing the courting is dead.”

 

“Ow,” Chris smiles tiredly, “I just got into a fight with a puma, old man. Gimme a break.”

 

John shakes his head in exasperation but pulls him into a kiss. Peter purrs delightedly and nudges his way in too.

 

Stiles makes a face, gagging a little - because ew, no - and looks away as Derek lumbers over to him. 

 

“Hey, big guy.”

 

The wolf gently snuffles his mate with his nose, one huge five-fingered paw coming up to curl around the back of Stiles' thigh. 

 

Stiles feels a silly smile pull at his mouth and returns the nudge, rubbing his face against the soft fur of Derek's forehead and hugging the wolf's head to his chest. A hand reaches up to play with one of Derek's pointed ears, his eyes barely making out the wolf's tail slowly wagging back and forth behind all that furry bulk as he gives Derek a good ear-scritching.

 

Derek whines and nuzzles closer for more. 

 

“You're so cute,” Stiles coos, “like a great big gigantic puppy.” He laughs at the unimpressed look on Derek's wolf features, before sputtering indignantly when Derek licks his face. “ _Gah_ -bleh!”

 

“Jerk,” he pouts. Derek pants in his face open-mouthed and licks him again. 

 

“Wah! Bad Derek, bad wolf!” Stiles tries to bat him away. 

 

Not heeding his mate's complaints, Derek tackles him then into the grass and attacks him with wolfy kisses.

 

“No, down boy- _hey!_ Not the hair!”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They head back to the house after Stiles gets Derek to stop licking and pawing at him, the boy now perched up on top of Derek's back as they bring up the rear.

 

Peter has the mountain lion thrown over his shoulder like it's nothing, his unoccupied hand intertwined with one of Chris' while John is on the hunter's other side, walking close with an arm around his back. 

 

The three men make a strange but admittedly kind of cute sight together, though Stiles will never admit it to them. Ever. He doesn't need to give Peter any more ammo to use against him in the future, that is if his dad hasn't already with stories from his childhood. 

 

He shudders. Oh, the horror.

 

Once back in the yard, Peter sets the puma down away from the deer.

 

It's to be cleaned, stuffed and mounted, and will make quite the handsome hunting trophy indeed, fit to sit guard by the fireplace in the living room of the Hale house where John wants it, because it certainly isn't going back to casa de Stilinski. “It will fit better here, with the forest so close by and everything,” the Sheriff points out, “besides, where the heck would I put it at my place?” 

 

Chris makes a mental note to call the taxidermist later tomorrow.

 

Behind them, Derek throws his head back and howls for the pack to return to base.

 

It was time to feast. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The pups all coming running back out of the bushes, all glowing iridescent eyes and toothy grins, Lydia, Danny and Allison not far behind them.

 

Derek turns back into a man, plucking the sweats his mate's father threw to him out of the air and slipping them on for the moment. He pets Jackson's head when the omega comes near before the blond bounds off to rub up against Stiles. 

 

The boy laughs and ruffles Jackson's hair affectionately. Then Isaac tackles Jackson with a growl and they're tussling playfully in the grass. The two roll to a stop with Isaac on top and Jackson whimpers before baring his throat to the beta.

 

Isaac yips and nuzzles the offered neck, licking softly before they pick themselves up to stand by the others, though they stay huddled together. 

 

Stiles internally melts, because seriously, those two are just too cute. 

 

With the pack surrounding them, the wolves restless and hungry, Derek and Peter crouch down and plunge a clawed hand into their kills, still warm and fresh, and pull out the heart; a delicacy among their kind.

 

The two Hales stand and present their gifts to their intendeds, gaining tentative approval from each Stilinski. They carefully slice into the organs with a claw and cut out the most tender portion to feed to their mates as tradition dictates.

 

John looks grim and Stiles appears a little green but the two lean in and manly consume the bloody morsel from the claws of their chosen wolf. 

 

Peter smears a little deer blood onto John's lips, paints them red before lapping at them delicately with little kitten licks, their mouths finding each other shortly after.

 

Derek does the same to Stiles, who moans a little when the wolf turns from gentle to devouring in a matter of seconds. 

 

The pairs break apart for breath and the two Hales lick at their lips before throwing their heads back and howling in triumph, their courtship complete. Their intendeds have found them worthy, accepted them as mates. Victory is sweet.

 

The rest of the wolves join in and harmonize, their human pack mates clapping and cheering as Chris watches the proceedings from the sidelines with tired yet satisfied eyes. He remembers the night Peter had presented him a deer not too long ago. 

 

Noticing how roughed up her father appears, Allison goes over to makes sure he's okay which he waves off with a fond smile, kissing her forehead. 

 

The two Argents then join the other humans and together they make quick work of what sections of the deer they want to save for later. 

 

Once the meat is packed away and stored in the industrial sized freezers downstairs, Derek gives Jackson and the betas the signal and the wolves converge onto the remains with animalistic glee. 

 

Stiles looks on after his pack; the pups tearing into the carcasses, Danny, Lydia and Allison discussing future dinner menus now that they have so much deer meat, his dad laughing at something Peter is saying while Chris rolls his eyes in exasperation.

 

Contentment buzzes under his skin as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

 

Life is good.

 

He catches Derek's red eyes over the pups' free for all and the Alpha smiles slowly. Dangerous. Predatory. 

 

He blinks, then a blush takes over his face unbidden as he recalls what's going to happen next. 

 

Derek raises his eyebrows at him suggestively, nodding towards the forest.

 

He widens his eyes. _Now?_

 

Derek tilts his head and gives him a sexy little smile. _Why not?_

 

He gulps and licks at his lips, flushing further when the Alpha's eyes immediately dart to the small movement. 

 

The pups stop gorging themselves for a moment at Stiles' increased heartbeat and turn to find the Alpha pair eye fucking each other.

 

Peter snorts from his spot nestled in between his two mates and waves the two off. “Go on. We got things covered here.”

 

At that, Derek grins wolfishly. Pun intended.

 

“Wait, you're not doing this part, Dad?” Stiles asks nervously.

 

John snorts, “Old man, remember?” Stiles makes a face at him, then turns tail and runs without warning, laughing wildly at Derek's playful growl.

 

“Run, Little Red, run,” Derek calls after him, dark humor tinging his deepening and increasingly guttural voice, cracking his neck as the shift begins to take over, “Because once I catch you, I'm never letting you go.” 

 

“I'm counting on it, Big Bad!” Stiles whoops and runs deeper into the forest as fast as his long legs can carry him - which is quite the distance thanks to running around, running away, and chasing supernatural critters - weaving through the trees and shrubbery and grinning joyously when he hears the echoing howl all the way back at the house. 

 

The Chase is on.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finis! 
> 
> ...or is it? XD 
> 
> I guess this is like a pseudo-ending, at least in regards to most of the plot.
> 
> From here on out, it's mostly gonna be smut.
> 
> Tell me, do you want the Derek/Stiles/ Jackson threesome here, or in a separate one-shot? It doesn't really fit with the rest of the story, but it's still in the same universe. 
> 
> Let me know!


	9. Chestnut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got tired looking at this one, so here it is! Haha.
> 
> Another little look into pack dynamics. And some Scott/Jackson! :D

 

A month passes and suddenly Christmas is almost here. 

 

The tree is up in the corner of the living room, a huge pine tree the pack had chosen and chopped down from within the expansive acres of Hale property, lit up and decorated with ornaments contributed from all pack members, some old like the ones from the Stilinskis' attic that had otherwise been untouched before now as well as the star that Derek had found in one of the Hales' storage units, and some new ones from the trip Lydia had demanded they all join her in so they all could pick something for the tree. A mix of the past and the present.

 

Lydia went all out on the decorating, tinsel and no-flame candles and mistletoe artfully placed everywhere inside the house. (Of course she'd roped the boys in to do her dirty work for the outside decorations, overseeing the placement of each light and wreath until it was to her precise specifications.) 

 

Duchess the puma got a Santa hat, and hand knit stockings hung from the mantle of the fireplace with all their names stitched on them, courtesy of Stiles' hidden talent. (He knits when he gets anxious, okay? Kind of like how he bakes when he's stressed. His _babunia_ had taught him how to knit years ago, and it's something to do with his hands so he doesn't over-think things so much as he is wont to do. Knitting requires constant focus so it's done wonders for his ADHD, and not to toot his own horn but he's pretty good at it too. ...Toot toot!)

 

Currently, Stiles is in the kitchen of the Hale house with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and an apron tied around his front like a shield, whistling a little tune at the counter as he's chopping up vegetables for dinner. Tonight on the menu: steaks made from the last of the deer that his dad has not-so-subtly been buttering him up to cook with trips the range to play with the big toys.

 

He smiles as he recalls how his dad tried to be sneaky about what he really wanted. Father-son bonding time, his very fine ass (if he does say so himself. Derek concurs). 

 

At least he got some good pointers from Chris and the three ended up having a pretty good time together shooting targets. His father thinks he's won, but Stiles can be sneaky too and is determined to make this meal with as many healthy alternatives as possible but still make it flavorful and delicious and to die for.

 

He goes to check on the cake baking in the oven when suddenly there's a familiar weight on his back. A nose snuffles its way to the crook of his neck and investigates the permanent bite mark his Alpha had marked him with that night of the Chase after he was eventually caught (and woo, he'd been _caught_ all right, but that is a story for another time), before a tongue flicks out and licks at it briefly. 

 

He shivers a little and hums, reaching a hand back to pet the perpetrator’s soft silky hair, “Hey, babe. What's up?”

 

“McCall is being an asshole,” Jackson grunts, hands holding his hips in place as he continues to nose at Stiles from behind.

 

“I am not!” is Scott's reply as the beta comes stomping into the kitchen.

 

Uh oh, Scott's acting up again. He has been more frequently as of late and it almost always has something to do with Jackson. 

 

Stiles knows that the two co-captains were never really buddy-buddy with each other before, but they're pack now. He'd thought that things would change eventually. Apparently they haven't yet.

 

Stiles turns around and gathers Jackson into his arms, the omega tucking his head under Stiles' chin where he likes it best. “Whoa now. What's this all about?”

 

Jackson snakes his arms around his waist and snuggles close, huffing in agitation, “I wanted the remote because it was my turn to pick and McCall wouldn't give it to me. He said Allison wanted to watch 'Say Yes to the Dress' with Lydia even though I've been waiting all day to see the football game.”

 

Stiles levels Scott a look and his best friend sputters.

 

“He does it to me all the time!”

 

“Only because you take too long and can't decide on what to watch! It pisses everyone off, and I'm not the only one who does it. It's not like you care anyways, unless it's something on Animal Planet and we never change the channel then,” Jackson sneers but Stiles could tell he's really upset about this. He absently runs his hand up and down Jackson's back in calming strokes and kisses the corner of his mouth.

 

Jackson touches their noses together and he gives the omega a reassuring smile. (Isaac is everyone's favorite but for Stiles, Jackson comes pretty damn close. Except Derek. Derek's favorite is Boyd.)

 

Then Stiles raises his eyebrows at Scott, who has his fists clenched at his sides, “He has a point, buddy. For some - quite frankly _stupid_ \- reason, I remember you tried to pull this at Thanksgiving, too. Good thing you didn't succeed or there would have been bloodshed; yours specifically. Dad would've given you The Look – you know he would've - and Crystal would've tried to stab your eye out with her stiletto. I can tell you right now no one would've lifted a finger to stop her if you somehow managed to wrestle the remote away from Sugar Mama's iron grip.”

 

He misses the ladies, who had all packed up for their annual end-of-year trip to Europe after they came to the house for Thanksgiving. Jungle just isn't the same without them, though there are going to be lots of souvenirs in his future according to Amber.

 

The beta stubbornly crosses his arms.

 

Stiles sighs. “Look, man. I don't know what your problem is but I'm going to have to go with Jax on this one. He's been waiting to see this game - you _know_ he has because he kept talking about it all day - so you're acting pretty douchey right now not letting him watch and I don't know why.”

 

Scott puffs up aggressively and suddenly explodes out of nowhere, “What the hell, Stiles! Why are you siding with him? This is _Jackson_ , remember? The one who picked on us throughout the school year, every year? The one who bullied us in lacrosse? He was even the kanima at one point,” he sneers, “Just because he's the pack bitch he gets special treatment now?”

 

Stiles freezes, eyes wide, and gapes in shock as he feels Jackson go stiff as a board in his arms. “Oh, **no** you did _not_ just _-_ _ **Scott Matthew McCall!**_ ” he screams at the beta. “What the hell does that even have to do with anything?!”

 

Immediately after the words leave his mouth, Scott instantly cows and looks extremely guilty. “Uh...I-”

 

He cuts himself off when Jackson slowly pulls away from Stiles protective embrace then, the blond's movements rigid and he doesn't meet anyone's eye. “I'm going for a run,” he grits out between clenched jaws.

 

“Okay,” Stiles says dumbly after a couple of tense seconds, “uh, don't be gone too long. If you see Derek, tell him dinner will be done in a hour, okay?” He cups the side of Jackson's face and watches worriedly as the blond gives him a curt nod before stalking towards the sliding door leading to the back yard.

 

“H-Hey, wait!” Scott scrambles after him, grabbing his arm, “Jackson, I-”

 

Jackson whirls around, blue eyes lit up and cold with fury, “Don't _touch_ me!” he seethes venomously and yanks his arm back, hissing and spitting until Scott is startled into letting go. The omega takes off running, already shifted in his haste to get away.

 

There's a moment of silence before Stiles marches right up to him and smacks him upside the head. Scott cowers with a whine. “I cannot _believe_ you actually said that! Words cannot describe how much disbelief I am in right now!” Stiles exclaims furiously. “Oh my god, I'm so severely disappointed in you, Scott. Throwing his insecurities in his face like that. Out of _everyone_ , you are the last person I'd ever think to deal such a low blow. You _know_ how sensitive he is about his time as a giant lizard, you dickwad. Just-what the hell is wrong with you.” He throws his hands up. “You know what, don't bother answering that. Go back into the living room, _now_. I don't have time to deal with your grossly offensive behavior; I have dinner to finish.”

 

He jabs a finger at the entryway and Scott goes morosely, tail tucked in between his legs.

 

Stiles huffs out a frustrated breath and returns to the vegetables after checking on dessert, his good mood officially ruined.

 

Out in the living room, Lydia sends Scott a poisonous glare and smacks him in the face with the remote while the other guys just shake their heads at him. 

 

Allison sighs sadly, “Oh, Scott. It wasn't even that big a deal. It was a rerun anyway, and even if it wasn't, that was completely uncalled for.” She turns and stares unseeingly at the TV. “We should have just let Jackson watch his game. Poor Jackson.”

 

Scott whimpers pathetically and curls into himself. He's really screwed up this time.

 

Lesson learned: jealousy over Stiles will get you nowhere.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time Stiles is finished with dinner, his father and his two lovers arrive at the door while the betas set the table, and Jackson returns to the house with Derek in tow. The Alpha has his big, warm hand on the back of the blond's neck, helping to anchor him as the two slip into the kitchen from their respective runs. 

 

Stiles breathes a sigh of relief and hurries over, cupping the omega's face in his hands. His mate hooks an arm around both their waists and a soothing rumble starts up in his chest. 

 

Honey amber eyes scan Jackson from head to toe and seem satisfied when no injuries turn up. 

 

“Glad you're back safe and sound,” he murmurs and kisses Jackson's forehead. “Dinner's ready. Why don't you go freshen up, hm?”

 

Jackson nods, rubs his cheek against Stiles' in thanks before sauntering off to do just that.

 

Stiles sighs and leans into Derek's bulk. 

 

“They'll be fine,” the Alpha soothes, kissing his temple.

 

Stiles looks up into those beautiful hazel eyes of his mate and nuzzles his jaw. “I hope so.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dinner is an awkward affair, conversation stilted. Even John, Chris and Peter could tell something went down while they were out. 

 

From his seat between Allison and Isaac, Scott is staring longingly at Jackson from across the table, plate hardly touched which is extremely unusual for the beta since it's Stiles' cooking and Scott loves the food Stiles makes more than anything, second only to Allison and his mom and his pack. 

 

The omega completely ignores him, slicing into his steak and popping the morsel into his mouth along with a scoop of creamy mashed potatoes.

 

To his right, Allison elbows Scott to eat while Danny and Lydia shoot looks over Jackson's head. Beside his daughter, Chris raises his eyebrows at Peter across the table in front of him who is next to the redhead, getting a shrug in reply. 

 

The Sheriff watches everyone else at the end of the table between his two partners as he eats.

 

At the head of the table on the other end sits Derek, calmly demolishing the mountain of food Stiles had piled onto his plate. His son sits to the Alpha's left as his mate and to Derek's right is Boyd as his second in command. John watches as Boyd passes the salad to Isaac sitting next to him and Erica smirking at something Stiles is regaling her with, their heads leaned in close together. 

 

Second, third and fourth helpings are had and then dessert comes and goes in a similar manner, a delicious Oreo chocolate cake that turned out perfectly, smothered with mildly sweet frosting and low-fat vanilla ice cream churned by Stiles' hand on the side. The Sheriff frowns sadly at the miniscule piece in front of him but savors the morsel since his son had forbidden Chris and Peter from giving him any of theirs, and had told them not to bother sneaking him any because he'd know - he somehow always does - and that they'd pay dearly if they do. Needless to say, Chris and Peter quickly finish off their cake and ice cream.

 

Soon the pack is groaning and rubbing their fully bellies, lavishing compliments to the chef that make Stiles beam and brings a pleased flush to his cheeks. 

 

He still makes them all help clean up though, stacking their used plates and utensils as well as the serving dishes on the counter next to the sink. 

 

Isaac is sent to the basement to put the soiled table cloth with the rest of the laundry and start a load of whites as the Alpha himself is roped into dish washing duty since it's his turn while Stiles dries. 

 

As for the rest of the pack, they shuffle into the living room to veg out in front of the large plasma TV while their food digests.

 

Except for Scott, who is still in the dining room and has somehow managed to convince a reluctant Jackson into staying behind and listen to what he has to say. 

 

Stiles nudges Derek with his hip and tosses his head in their direction, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

 

Derek cocks his head to listen in, which brings a smile to Stiles' face. He couldn't help it, Derek really does look like a pup when he does that. Derek gives him a look like he knows exactly what he's thinking as he shakes with silent laughter before the Alpha resumes his eavesdropping. 

 

Stiles turns and watches the two from the corner of his eye. 

 

Scott appears embarrassed and sad and guilty as he speaks in a low voice that Stiles couldn't hear, a sheepish hand on the back of his neck as Jackson has his arms crossed in front on him defensively, his handsome face giving nothing away.

 

Slowly though, oh so slowly, Stiles notices the ice melting a little around the omega's demeanor the longer Scott talks, his pretty blue eyes losing their tension and his mouth softening from the grim line it'd settled into. 

 

The blond looks away as he says something in response and Scott takes a hesitant step closer, a hopeful look on his face.

 

Scott slowly reaches up and gently grips Jackson's biceps, brown eyes searching his face for something that he apparently finds because he suddenly breaks into a smile. 

 

Jackson looks up through his lashes and doesn't object when Scott leans in for a nuzzle which smoothly turns into a soft tentative kiss a moment later, the beta's hands sliding down his back to hold his hips as their eyes flutter shut. 

 

He hums and opens his mouth, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on Scott shoulders as their lips kiss and suck at each other gently.

 

Eventually they pull apart with a breathy sigh and Scott noses his face, a goofy grin curling his mouth. Jackson rolls his eyes but allows the beta to tug him into the living room to join the rest of the pack. 

 

Stiles turns to Derek and the Alpha gives him a small smile. “Told you they'd be fine.”

 

He leans in for a kiss of his own, “So you did.”

 

They finish the dishes together in peace.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Alpha pair find the pups on the huge, super-soft and squishy floor cushion, custom-made with the finest materials money can buy for impromptu puppy piles for times such as this.

 

Jackson's in the middle, squished in between Boyd and Scott, Isaac and Danny tangled together in his legs as Erica wriggles herself into a more comfortable position between Boyd and his right side, her head resting on his abs. Lydia and Allison are spooned together above his head, their hands occasionally coming down to run through his hair. 

 

Peter, Chris and John meanwhile are lounging on one of the large couches surrounding the massive cuddle cushion, the three oldest members of the pack lying close together with arms thrown across each others' bodies like octopi.

 

Stiles fights down a snort and smiles when he sees his dad blinking sleepily in Peter's arms as he rests on Chris' chest, the hunter absently petting his arm.

 

Then Stiles is being tugged over to the pile by Derek, the Alpha nudging pups out of the way to make room for the two of them. The pups whine and grumble at being jostled but move accordingly to accommodate the pair before they all settle in again.

 

Once he's comfortable, Stiles notices what's playing on the TV and blinks. 

 

“Football?”

 

“The magic of TiVo,” comes Lydia's flippant reply above his head before she's being shushed by Isaac. She reaches out and boops him on the nose but quiets down so the boys could enjoy their game.

 

Tucked up against Derek's side, Jackson looks across his Alphas' bodies to sees Scott looking back at him from under Stiles' chin, apparently forgiven by his best friend.

 

The other boy sends him a soft smile which he slowly returns before sliding an arm around Derek. Scott does the same around Stiles' middle and they hold hands on top of Derek's abs. 

 

Jackson takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of _pack_ and _home_ and _safe_ and knowing he's where he wants to be, where he needs to be; where he belongs.

 

It's a feeling he's been searching for for a long time and now that he's finally found it, he intends to hold on tight and keep it. 

 

He turns his head back to watch his game, content.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It's getting late and soon they all start to nod off one by one.

 

Peter and his mates retire to their room after the game and Derek takes that as his cue to start ushering his pups to bed as well.

 

“C'mon, guys. Mommy and Daddy want some 'alone time',” Erica leers suggestively with a sleepy wink, cackling at Stiles' flustered face and Derek's half-hearted glare, dragging a stumbling Boyd and Isaac with her up the stairs.

 

Scott and Jackson are next, the two holding hands as Scott leads the blond to his room he usually shares with Allison. Said archer sees them off with a wink and a wave before she, Danny and Lydia decide to stay up a little while longer. 

 

With that, the Alpha pair bid them goodnight – Stiles giggling at the flush on Danny's face when Derek reels him in with an arm around his waist and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, the tease – before shuffling off to the Master bedroom. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Days later Stiles' hyperactive brain wouldn't let him stop thinking about Erica's playful jab. 

 

He knows he's the 'mom' of the pack, sort of speak. C'mon, he keeps the pack fed and happy, makes sure they get along with each other and even cleans up after them for crying out loud. That isn't to say he doesn't know how to keep them all in line either or get them to pull their own weight with assigned chores, like his namesake always know how to do.

 

So naturally if he's Pack Mom then that makes Derek Pack Dad, doesn't it?

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The first time it happens, it just sort of slips out. Of course it does, because he is Stiles and with the amount of time he's spent obsessing over it, it was only a matter of time before his brain-to-mouth filter fails him yet again. 

 

They're in bed, Stiles openly moaning as he arches up and clutches at the sheets next to his head while Derek worships his body at his own leisure with lips and fingers and that wicked tongue of his. 

 

The pups are all out today buying last minute presents and won't be back 'til late so they have the house to themselves. What better way to spend it than on his back with his Alpha between his thighs? 

 

Stiles is not ashamed of how easy he is for Derek, not one bit. When the wolf had slowly backed him up - not unlike the sexy predator he is, stalking his prey - to splay him out on their bed like an all-you-can-eat buffet, it made him feel powerful to know that just by biting his lip and spreading his legs, he could bring a strong Alpha male like Derek to his knees, like he is now.

 

But after being teased for _hours,_ Stiles is desperate, whimpering and pulling at Derek's hair. He wants _more_.

 

The wolf chuckles, causing Stiles to buck his hips up, and with one final suck he pulls off of Stiles' dick, pressing a kiss to the shiny red mushroom head before blowing on it gently.

 

Stiles whines and makes grabby hands for Derek, pulling the wolf up onto the bed from the floor and bringing his face down for a sloppy open-mouthed kiss.

 

Derek growls, red eyes glowing softly, and nips at Stiles' bottom lip. “Greedy pup.”

 

Stiles merely purrs and nuzzles his stubbly chin, submissive and horny for his Alpha.

 

The wolf smirks and takes a hold of the plug that's shoved up inside Stiles as a placeholder, gently pulling it out and getting a little shiver in response. A trickle of lube escapes down Stiles' cleft and he rumbles deeply at the sight of Stiles' entrance grasping at the air for something to fill it before he's shifting them further onto the bed and pushing into Stiles' eager hole, nice and loose and slick from their earlier play.

 

Derek wastes no time and starts pounding his mate into the mattress. Stiles isn't the only one close to his limit.

 

“Uh, uhn,” Stiles mewls and clings desperately onto Derek as his Alpha fucks deep into his ass with relentless power, the boy unable to do anything but hold on for the ride. 

 

He keens high and needy as Derek drives into him, wanting so much to cum and not thinking about anything else, much less what comes out of his mouth next.

 

“ _Daddy._ ”

 

As soon as the word leaves his lips though, his eyes go wide with horror and Derek immediately stills above him. The older man slowly lifts his head from his spot against Stiles' neck to stare down at him, confirming his fears.

 

“What did you just call me?”

 

Stiles' face goes bright red, utterly mortified.

 

“N-...Nothing! Nothing at all - I didn't say anything.” He shakes his head vehemently in denial as he starts to panic on the inside. “Ohmygod, _no._ Nope. _Nada.”_ Oh my _god,_ did he actually say that out loud?! Really?!

 

Derek doesn't relent.

 

“Stiles.” The wolf's eyes flash red and Stiles whines at him pathetically, not able to deny the authority in his Alpha mate's voice, not like this. 

 

He bites his lip and looks away shamefaced, “I...I called you Daddy,” he repeats in a barely audible mumble, face burning with humiliation, “I-Is that too kinky...?”

 

A throaty growl is all the warning he gets before Derek abruptly pulls out, almost all the way until only the tip remains, and then yanks his thin hips forward.

 

A scream forces its way out of his chest as Derek rams his prostate with brutal accuracy, leaving him shaking violently and clutching at Derek's biceps. 

 

“Say it again,” the older man rumbles low, leaning down to lick at Stiles' open mouth.

 

“D-Daddy,” he moans for his Alpha, sweet and pretty.

 

Derek pulls out and thrusts back in with a snap of his hips, resulting in a sharp whimper. “Again.”

 

“Ah, a-ah-! _Daddy._ ”

 

Fuck, that's so fucking _hot_. Derek's growls turns feral as he roughly fucks his mate into submission.

 

“Again!”

 

“Oh god! Ugh! Daddy!” Stiles gives it up to him and cries for more, nails scratching long red lines down Derek's back that quickly disappear as soon as they come, “Please, please - _fuck me!”_

 

“Yeah,” Derek grunts and tongue fucks Stiles' mouth as he savagely ruts into his mate, “Fuck you, gonna fuck you stupid. Fill you up, keep you full. Keep you here with me.” Snarling softly, he ratchets up his speed, “Spend my days making you happy, and my nights putting you to bed with a belly full of cum. Have you wear my ring and my collar, never let you go.” He groans as Stiles keens and clamps down on him, “You like that, don't you baby? You like the idea of belonging to me?”

 

“Yes, _yes_.” He wants to cum _so bad_. “Daddy, _please_.”

 

“Not yet,” Derek rumbles darkly, “I'm not done with you yet.”

 

He rears up and throws Stiles' legs over his shoulders, spread wide by the Alpha's large hands under his knees.

 

Stiles lets out a thin reedy sound, now almost bent in half as his Alpha fucks down into his red puffy hole. He's mesmerized by the look on Derek's face, those impressive brows pulled into a deep 'v' of utter concentration as sweat drips down the Alpha's face.

 

God, he's so beautiful. 

 

“Gonna take care of you. Always take such good care of you, Stiles – _Fuck_.”

 

“ _Mmh. Yes._ ” Stiles squirms and reaches up for his face, parting his mouth for kiss. 

 

Derek growls and gives him what he wants. 

 

Stiles always gets what he wants; whatever Derek has, whatever that is in his power to have, to obtain, he'll give it to him. His den, his pack, his name; his _life_ and _heart_ and _soul._ Everything. And Stiles knows it, and treasures it and will never, _ever_ abuse it, for he will take it, take everything that is Derek, and give back every inch of what he is – human, spark, _mate_ – as well as what he's capable of, a hundred times over.

 

“ _Unh_ – Daddy. Daddy, I'm so _empty,_ ” he whimpers, clenching down on Derek when he tries to pull out for another thrust in, and earns himself a groan from deep within the Alpha's chest, “Knot me, knot me, please. Want it so bad. Want you to breed me, Alpha. Please!”

 

“Fuck, baby, the things you _do to me_ ,” Derek moans, deep and throaty, before he's rolling onto his back with his mate perched on top of him, holding him steady by the hips as the boy reorients himself from the sudden change in scenery. Red eyes flare up brilliantly. “Show me how much you want it.”

 

Balancing himself up with his hands on Derek's solid chest, Stiles bites his bottom lip and goes for broke, riding that huge, fat cock inside him like his life depended on it.

 

“Unh! Unh! Unh! _Unh!_ ” It won't be much longer now; he's falling apart at the seams, just needing that extra push over the edge.

 

With a powerful thrust of his hips Derek gives it to him, making him cum spectacularly all over the wolf's chest in huge white splatters.

 

Derek purrs like he's pleased that he's covered in Stiles' cum, the kinky beast, and lunges up one more time, his bulging knot catching the rim of Stiles' pucker before slipping in and locking them in place.

 

Stiles screams when the knot presses into his prostate, trembling in the aftermath of his orgasm as Derek swivels his hips up against his sensitive passage and cums deep inside his ass.

 

He mewls when Derek presses a finger to his stuffed hole, fucked raw and open, and finally collapses against Derek's chest, not caring about the sticky mess between them. 

 

Before he passes out he hears Derek whisper a tender 'I love you', and smiles.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time they stumble down the stairs for some food, damp from round _n_ in the shower 'cause Derek just couldn't keep his hands to himself, the rest of the pack have returned to the house.

 

Boyd starts the slow clap and the rest of the pups quickly follow suit, Erica bringing her fingers up and wolf-whistles as Danny howls softly in the background. Isaac is smirking while Jackson stares at his Alphas with a hungry intensity, blue eyes glowing softly. 

 

The pack laughs when Stiles flushes and Derek's ears go bright red, the two belatedly remembering that the bathroom isn't soundproof.

 

“ _Somebody's_ been busy all day,” Peter remarks with a delicate sniff, smirking with an eyebrow wiggle. “Nice shirt, Stiles.”

 

“ _Uncle_ ,” Derek glares at him as Stiles groans and mutters something about 'creeper Peter'. 

 

Peter smiles innocently and returns with an indulgent “Nephew.”

 

Stiles hugs the soft worn henley he's wearing protectively to his chest, which is a size too big and just so happens to belong to Derek (a fact that has Derek's wolf howling and rolling around happily inside his psyche), and sticks his tongue out at the room before stomping into the kitchen with a huff to whip up some snacks.

 

Sometimes his packs sucks, therefore no snacks for them.

 

Jackson and Isaac jump up and hurry after him, wanting to help so Stiles doesn't stay mad at them and maybe persuade their pack mom to make them something too. Danny smiles and stands, grabbing Derek's hand to tug his Alpha along as well and trail after them.

 

(Of course, Stiles caves against the combined power of Jackson's cuddles, Isaac's puppy eyes and Danny's dimples, so the three end up getting their snacks. Evil little buggers.)

 

“Now, Peter,” Chris chides with a smirk, “Leave the boys alone.”

 

“Yeah, considering last night, you were so-” John starts up under his breath, before cutting himself off when he remembers he's in the company of werewolves with super hearing, and looks up from his papers to see the remaining pups staring at him, Erica and Lydia, who is seated close by, looking particularly interested. Scott looks puzzled, then after a beat looks absolutely horrified. 

 

Peter chuckles at his mate's faux pas and Chris hides his grin behind his mug.

 

Erica whistles again.“Damn. Looks like Papa Stilinski's got _game_ ,” she says with a laugh, wiggling her eyebrows at the Sheriff.

 

“Erica, language,” John weakly admonishes. Erica just winks at him. The Sheriff is her favorite after all. 

 

Lydia lets out a dainty scoff, “Of course he does, just look at him. He landed Papa Argent, no?”

 

“Lydia!” Allison blushes and hides her face in Scott's shoulder, whose gone pale and a little green. C'mon, this is her _father_ that her _friends_ are talking about. Really, girls? Really??

 

“Hey!” Peter pouts, “What about me?”

 

Lydia raises a brow, “What _about_ you?”

 

“Ah, so cruel, my dear,” Peter languishes back with a whine, a hand to his heart.

 

John coughs and rustles his papers in an attempt to hide how flustered he is as Chris lets out a deep laugh.

 

Kids these days. Shameless, the lot of them.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Christmas Eve finally arrives, and the pups are all scattered on the floor tearing into their presents when the clock strikes midnight, Stiles opens the one he gets from Derek.

 

It's a collar, simply beautiful in black and made from a soft buttery leather with a round pendant of platinum attached on a ring right in the center, stamped with the symbol of the triskelion.

 

Big brown eyes look up into feral red full of love and possession, and he tackles his Alpha in his enthusiasm. They go down in a tangle of limbs as Stiles smooches his mate within an inch of his life, peppering kisses all over his stupidly gorgeous face.

 

Words fail him so he takes a page out of Derek's book and shows him just how much it means to him through action. He loves his wolf so much.

 

Just as they part softly with a smile, Stiles' a little watery as Derek nuzzles his face with such tender care, the doorbell rings and the ladies let themselves in with the house key Stiles had given them before their trip, like they had gifted him with.

 

“Guess whose back early!” announces Sugar Mama with a flourish and the pack cheers and welcomes them home with wide open arms.

 

Best Christmas ever.


	10. Venetian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I lied. XD That threesome one-shot I told y'all about has somehow found a way into the main timeline. Woo! 
> 
> For those of yu who didn't want the Derek/Stiles/Jackson threesome, skip this chapter as well as the next one coming up after. Please and tank yu! 
> 
> For those of you eagerly awaiting this installment, enjoy! I tried my best. :P May be edited at a later date. Read onward!

 

Jackson stares up at the store sign, then back at Stiles.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Oh, don't give me that look. You liked the ones you got for Christmas, didn't you?”

 

Jackson grumbles. “...Yeah, but,” he looks up at the sign again, “did we really need to drive all the way out here, two towns over?”

 

“Look, this is where the ladies take me shopping, and probably where Anita had gotten them. It's quality stuff and I know how you get about quality, so quit your whining.”

 

Jackson pouts but allows himself to be led in by the hand after Stiles kisses his cheek to appease him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

A familiar ring sounds from his laptop and Derek clicks to accept the video call. Stiles' face fills the screen, brown doe eyes twinkling with mischief as his boy gives him a crooked grin. “Hi, Daddy.”

 

A slow smile curls his lips. Eyes lidded, Derek replies, “Hey, baby. I miss you.” 

 

“Miss you, too,” Stiles sighs and runs a hand through his tousled hair, “But you'll be back soon, right? Just a couple more days at the super-secret west coast Alpha werewolf convention?” 

 

He rolls his eyes fondly at the ridiculous title. “Yes, Stiles.”

 

“Mm, good. Can't wait 'til you're home for Valentine's.” Stiles' eyes smolder at him before the look is gone as soon as it appears. “So, have you learned anything interesting while you've been down there? You're playing nice with the other Alphas, aren't you?”

 

“Of course I am.” 

 

Stiles squints at him for a moment, then says, “Liar.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are too. You, mister, are a lying liar who lies. I bet you're doing your typical broody-and-mysterious-stay-away-from-me-grr shtick you have going on. Mr. Grumpers.”

 

Derek scoffs as his mate sticks his tongue out and laughs at him. 

 

“Well, if you're going to be like that tonight,” he starts in a light tone, making the younger man shut his trap and straighten up noticeably because that tone can only mean trouble for Stiles, “I guess you don't want me to bring this back?”

 

He picks something up from off screen before showing it to Stiles. 

 

Brown eyes widen dramatically. “Is that-?”

 

“-The ancient tome on herbal remedies you've spent weeks scouring the depths of the internet for? Maybe.”

 

“Der- _eeek_ , you bastard!” his mate whines at him, “Where did you find it?!” 

 

“Alpha Bragg from Oregon owed me a favor,” he answers with a nonchalant shrug, idly flipping through the fragile parchment. “Gonna be good for me now, mate?”

 

Stiles pouts at him for a moment before his expression slips into something a little more sweet and seductive, something Derek's always loved.

 

“Always, Daddy.” His mate smirks then pulls away from the camera, and Derek takes a moment to stare at what he's wearing.

 

“Is that my jacket?”

 

Stiles smiles at him coyly and snuggles into it, giving himself a hug. He pulls a lapel close to his nose and inhales a deep lungful of Derek's rich, woodsy scent, “Mm, what can I say, I've missed you.”

 

Derek notices he's not wearing much else, teasing peeks of pale dotted skin flashing at him briefly from underneath the leather, and the pendant of his collar glimmering faintly in the soft dim light. A bit of red catches his eye and he blinks, irises changing from hazel to crimson in a heartbeat.

 

“Stiles.”

 

His mate bites his lip, a small blush tinting his face. “Fuck, I love it when your eyes go all Alpha on me,” he breathes before he leans back further onto their bed and spreads his legs – clad in sheer stockings with little red bows at the top - revealing the little red lacy things that are trying real hard to pass as panties. Which is to say, not all that hard at all. 

 

Speaking of **hard**...

 

Derek groans deep in his chest and flops back in his chair, “ _Fuck,_ Stiles.”

 

His mate smiles - all sly and teasing, the little minx – and winks at him, “We'll be getting to that soon enough. You like? I just bought them today.”

 

His eyes narrow. “I knew I haven't seen those ones before.”

 

Stiles licks his lips, leaving them shiny and moist, “Thought of you when I saw them, so obviously I couldn't resist getting them.”

 

With his arousal evident, Derek's voice turns husky with his next words, “I like them on you, but I think I'd like them better off even more.”

 

Stiles' laugh is delighted, “I'd thought you'd never ask.”

 

Slim, dexterous fingers trail down Stiles' chest, revealing his hard little nipples from under the jacket as Stiles fingers the edge of the panties. The boy toys with the hem a bit more before laying back on a convenient pile of pillows and arching like a kitten, shimmying the scrap of fabric down his legs where they stay stretched taut between his hairless thighs. 

 

Stiles bites his lip again, whiskey eyes looking at him from under dark lashes. “What should I do now, Daddy?”

 

Derek's pupils dilate, black eating up red, and he growls low, “Spread 'em.”

 

“ _Mnh-_ ” Stiles does so with a shudder, face going slack as he sinks into the heady feeling of subspace. 

 

Derek knows that Stiles appreciates not having to think all the time. No plotting or strategizing here; all the boy has to do is follow his Alpha's commands and feel - which he does so beautifully, so eagerly. 

 

The werewolf always makes sure Stiles knows he's loved and cared for, even when he's being taken apart and put back together again. _Especially_ when he's being taken apart and put back together again.

 

Derek tsks softly, “You can do better than that. Use your hands, baby. Spread them further.”

 

Stiles nods and obeys, his hands reaching down to pull his cheeks apart. His face flushes pink, feeling exposed under his Alpha's possessive gaze.

 

“Mm, there it is,” Derek murmurs, voice going dark and velvety like melted chocolate, “What a cute little pussy hole you have, baby. So pretty and pink. You've been a good boy for me, haven't you.” Said hole clenches involuntarily in response and Stiles lets out a soft needy sound, that delicious little blush staining his cheeks quickly spilling down his chest, highlighting those irresistible moles of his. The wolf tilts his head to side, sexy scarlet eyes trained on his delectable mate, “Or rather, a good girl?”

 

They have a rule: when Derek is away, Stiles isn't allowed to play with his hole without his mate's permission; that's for Derek when he comes home, so he can ruin that virgin-tight ass all over again, fucking that soft pink pucker until it's loose and sloppy and the angriest shade of red from his thick cock and fat knot.

 

That means Stiles hasn't had a satisfying orgasm since his mate had left for Nevada three days ago. The boy's rutted and fucked through his vastly growing collection of toys while wearing Derek's shirts to get off but nothing comes close to the nirvana he reaches at the hands of his Alpha mate.

 

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy,” murmurs Stiles in between the shivers wracking his body, struggling to hold still so Derek could look his fill and savor the view to his heart's content, “I've been so good...a-a good girl for my Alpha.”

 

“Is that so,” Derek purrs, “Then you deserve a reward.” He palms himself through his jeans, eager to get this show on the road. “Let's fill you up, hm? Bet you've missed have a cock stuffing your pussy, don't you, beautiful.”

 

“ _Yes_ , so much,” his boy mewls, toes curling in his stockings as he trembles in anticipation. 

 

 _Fuck,_ so sexy. Fucking little cockslut. 

 

Derek's fangs itch in his gums, wanting to drop down and gnash and _bite_. He takes a slow steadying breath and lets it out through his nose then manages to say in an even tone, “Good. Get yourself ready for me.”

 

Stiles lets go of his ass cheeks and grabs the nearest lube stashed away under the pillows, getting his fingers wet and rubbing one up against his tight little pucker with a soft breathy sigh, teasing himself - teasing them both. One finger slips in – his hole taking it easily even after days of disuse, opening up like a flower around the digit - then two, then three, until he's slick and stretched and waiting for his next cue from Derek, honey brown eyes begging.

 

Derek hums in approval, loving it when Stiles gets like this for him, all defenseless and vulnerable. Like prey. 

 

He gives the order, “Grab a toy and fuck yourself, baby. Fuck yourself on that hard dick, like you'd fuck me. Go slow, and no touching that pretty clit of yours.” He smirks evilly, “That's for later.”

 

Stiles whimpers a little at that last part, cock twitching, but complies and hastily reaches for something off screen. It's a dildo, not as big as Derek, but long and textured with a knot at the end; Stiles' favorite.

 

Inside his head his wolf rears up and roars at him, fighting to the surface, wanting to be there to mount his mate and give him a _real_ dick to fuck, pin him down by the neck - head down, ass up - and stake his claim all over again. 

 

With claws digging into the arms of his chair, he forces himself to relax as he watches Stiles lube up and push the dildo into his ass in one smooth slide, a sluttish moan escaping as muscles clench onto the toy like it couldn't get enough. 

 

“What a greedy hole you have, pet,” he murmurs, “Look how hungry it is.”

 

Stiles lets out a choked mewl then thrusts his hips back onto the toy until it's flush against his bottom. He starts to fuck himself on it like Derek wants him to, works himself over slowly as soft bitten off sounds leave his lips.

 

Derek knew it wouldn't last long though, his noisy mate. 

 

Heated crimson eyes are locked onto his boy as Stiles plunges the toy in and out of his sopping hole with long punctuated thrusts, desperation starting to color his movements the longer he fucks his own ass from his desire for faster, harder - but he couldn't give in to it, not yet; forced to wait for it like his Alpha taught him to.

 

“You want it so _fucking_ bad, don't you,” Derek growls from the back of his throat minutes later, squeezing his engorged length through his jeans.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Stiles pants, sweat glistening his skin from his steady but forceful ministrations as his breathing hitches, “H-huh... _hunh –_ so good. Please.”

 

“Please what.”

 

“Please, can I – ah! - can I knot? I want to knot.” His mate's lashes flutter when Stiles seeks out his prostate, that gorgeous mouth lush and open in a perfectly obscene little 'o' as he gulps for air. “Please, Daddy, please.” He slurs, “Been empty for so _long_...”

 

Derek purrs, all big and masculine. “Well, since you asked so nicely...” He leans back in his chair and pulls himself out of his confining jeans at last, playing with the foreskin sheathing his cock head, “Go ahead then, baby girl. Knot yourself, but don't cum yet.” 

 

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy,” Stiles babbles and lets out a hot little gasp as the knot pops through. He's trembling, arching his back and grinding his ass down against the bed to push it in further, feel it deeper, fingers clenching the pillows by his head. “Ah! Ahn! _Mmh!_ ”

 

“That's it. Good,” rumbles Derek, stroking himself roughly, fucking up into his fist, “So _tight_.”

 

A loud whimper is heard.

 

But it doesn't come from Stiles. 

 

Instantly Derek pauses, one hand on his dick, and cocks his head to the side. No, it definitely didn't come from Stiles, whose chest is heaving too heavily to utter such a noise. Besides, he knows every little sound his mate's ever uttered. 

 

It certainly didn't come from _him_.

 

“...Stiles?”

 

On the bed, his boy is biting his lip again, amber eyes hazy but unapologetic, maybe even a little smug? 

 

“Oops,” Stiles breathes out, all naughty and coy. “Busted.” 

 

That mischievous grin reappears before he's looking away from Derek and flings an arm across the bed, crooking a finger in a lazy 'come-hither' motion to someone out of frame. 

 

Then blue eyes are peeking up sheepishly at Derek from the corner of the screen. 

 

“Surprise!” comes Stiles' jaunty response, complete with jazz hands.

 

Derek's eyebrows shoot up. “Jackson?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jackson cautiously pulls himself up onto the bed at Stiles' insistence and curls up against the human's side when Stiles sits up – gingerly, of course, because dildo – to shrug off the jacket and pull his panties off completely. The brunet flings them over his shoulder before twisting around to greet him with a kiss. 

 

Then Jackson murmurs, “Hi, Alpha,” shyly to the camera and ducks his head into Stiles' neck afterward, slowly turning red the longer Derek continues to stare at him in surprise. He's not sure what the older wolf is thinking right now, not sure if he's even welcome here in such an intimate setting for his Alphas. 

 

Sensing his turmoil, Stiles coos and turns to the omega, hugging him close and petting his hair to comfort him.

 

“Jax has been a good boy,” Stiles tells Derek, “He's kept me company all day and even went shopping with me when everyone else was busy.”

 

“Is that true, pup?” comes his Alpha's voice filtered over the speakers.

 

He nods against Stiles' neck, nose brushing against his collar, then peeks back up to see Derek's infamously unreadable face looking back at him. 

 

“I think he deserves a reward,” Stiles chirps up helpfully, and Jackson blushes when his Alpha locks gazes with him.

 

“Is that so,” Derek drawls.

 

“Mhm, and look! We even picked some things out for him too!” 

 

Stiles then proceeds to pounce on Jackson and wrestle him into position as the bewildered omega struggles half-heartedly underneath the other boy until he's manhandled into resting back onto Stiles' chest between his legs, facing the computer. Stiles hooks his feet around the blond's ankles and spreads them until Jackson's powder blue panties, white stockings and matching lacy garter belt are on display. “Tada~!” says Stiles, panting lightly, his face flushed from the toy being jostled around during their little skirmish, “Aren't they adorable?”

 

“Stiles!” Jackson grumbles at him but quiets when the other boy gently shushes him with his lips and strokes his naked chest. Stiles tweaks his nipples and he moans against that cupid's bow mouth before the brunet is nudging at his face with his nose until he turns his head back to see Derek rake deep red eyes in a slow, unhurried sweep down his bared form. He feels the gaze like a caress, his whole body going bright pink when Derek stares down the hard cock outlined in his panties. It gives a little twitch under such intense scrutiny and a little precum oozes out, creating a dark spot. Derek chuckles. 

 

“Hm. Pretty pup,” the older man states with approval and Jackson's wolf whimpers, wanting to please and submit properly to his Alpha. Instinctively, his hands come up to curl near the base of his neck to show more of his belly, so there's nothing hindering Derek's view of his body. He lowers his eyes and bares his neck in submission for good measure.

 

Derek's eyes go half-lidded, and he absolutely _purrs_. “Lovely boy, look how good you're being. My gorgeous omega pup.”

 

Jackson peeks up from beneath his lashes at that and nibbles his lip, smiling radiantly which causes Stiles to coo and kiss at his face as he preens under his Alphas' attention. “Thank you, Alpha,” he replies softly, lust and reverence shining in his glowing blue eyes before Stiles is pecking at his shoulder, drawing his attention away from Derek for the moment. Stiles nuzzles him until the blond turns his face up for a kiss, accepting the persistent tongue gently poking at his lips with a little moan.

 

They kiss and nip and mouth at each other, making out in sensual leisure until they're forced to break for air, soft puffs of breath hitting the other's swollen lips. 

 

“Let's give Alpha a good show, huh?” Stiles whispers conspiratorially to him and grinds his neglected erection into his silk covered ass. He whimpers and throws his head back onto his shoulder in acquiescence.

 

One of Stiles' hands creeps down his chest past his abs to cup his cock, diligent finger tips teasing his sac through the silk, making Jackson squirm and arch into it, wanting more. They answer his silent plea and dip in between his cheeks to press against his hole, causing more precum to soak into his panties. “Stiles. Please.”

 

“Okay, babe. I've got you,” Stiles murmurs in between kisses, “Take these off for me?” He tugs at the soiled panties until Jackson unclips his garters and hooks his fingers into the offending garments, lifting up his hips impatiently to pull them all the way off and throwing them off the side of the bed to join Stiles' pair on the floor. “There you go. Better,” Stiles says, pleased, “Good boy.” 

 

Jackson yips and licks at the other boy's mouth, always eager to please.

 

Crooning, Stiles nuzzles him for being so cute and takes Jackson's dick into his hand, starting to pump him, feather-light strokes at first before tightening his grip and giving it to his pup harder once he gets a rhythm going. The other hand slides down to massage his balls, one finger easing back to stroke his taint, the rim of his hole; pressing hard at the pucker before slipping inside the blond's tight channel, already lubed up with wet omega slick, perfect for plundering. (Scott had helped discover that little treat.)

 

Jackson groans deep from his chest, nose pressed against Stiles' cheek, clutching at Stiles' thighs as he undulates against the brunet's trapped dick, needing something bigger inside him now. He lets out a low whine when Stiles pulls the finger away, but settles when the other boy kisses him soothingly.

 

“Get on him on his back,” he hears his Alpha growl, “Want to see you suck him off, baby.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles wriggles happily against Jackson with an enthusiastic “Yes, Daddy”, flushed and breathless and terribly aroused as he moves them into a better position for the camera.

 

Biting his lip, he settles into the cradle of Jackson's parted thighs and splays himself on top of the omega, catching Jackson's mouth with his own for another steamy tongue session as he gropes around to find the pup's hands, pinning them above his head and linking their fingers together once he does.

 

“ _Mmh,_ ” Jackson moans when they part with a noisy smack, Stiles humming and nosing at his face affectionately. He squeezes Jackson's hands to make sure they stay in place before heading south, long bony fingers trailing down Jackson's sculpted arms and sides to anchor themselves onto his hips as he peppers kisses all the way down his chest, between his pecs to his abs which makes the pup arch up into it with a breathy little moan. He detours to a hipbone, inspecting a groove that forms the blond's deep 'v' with his tongue before arriving at his final destination. 

 

Lapping at Jackson's weeping cock with tiny kitten licks, eliciting more soft and needy sounds from the pup, he catches stray droplets of precum on his tongue. 

 

“Stay,” Stiles chides when Jackson tries to buck up and the blond wolf whines, pouting down at him.

 

“Do as your mama says, pup,” comes Derek's husky voice, darkly amused, and Stiles shakes his head, rolling his eyes at the pet name. He smiles playfully at the camera all the same, meeting feral red eyes gleaming in the darkness on screen, the light of Derek's computer highlighting his chest and the bottom half of that stupidly handsome face of his. 

 

Jackson's pout deepens a bit before he does as he's told and lays still. Stiles turns back to him and smirks, then rubs his face against the blond's cock as a reward and pets his thighs. “Good boy,” he says as neon blue eyes watch him before they flutter shut when he goes down on him, Jackson's mouth falling open around a truly explicit moan, worthy of a porno.

 

His pup tries to be good, tries real hard, but when Stiles pulls up with a loud slurp – cheeks hollowing briefly – and moves down to mouth at his tightening balls, he whimpers pathetically, having had to hold back for so long. Jackson's lower body trembles with little jolts of pleasure as the omega fights to keep his hips from thrusting up - keep himself from cumming without permission. Alpha doesn't like it when he doesn't obey that particular rule, and his punishments were as cruel as they were terribly pleasurable.

 

Stiles takes pity on him though, and kisses his sensitive cock head with wet red lips, suckling on the blushing mushroom cap before opening his mouth wide and swallowing him all the way down his throat, making Jackson throw back his head and keen high and desperate at the feeling of warm constricting muscles massaging his aching cock.

 

“Oh god, Stiles, if you keep doing that 'm not gonna last,” he's slurring a few minutes later, clenching the sheets above his head and biting his lip against the torrent of noises that want to escape. 

 

“Not yet, pup,” Derek rumbles over the speakers, “You know better than that.”

 

Jackson whimpers again and lowers his eyes, “Y-Yes, Alpha. Always, Alpha.”

 

Stiles groans around his mouthful, so explicitly turned on by just how submissive Jackson gets for Derek. He bobs his head faster, up and down and up and down and back again, the sounds he makes obscene and filthy. He swallows once which causes Jackson to cry out before Stiles is pulling off of him completely and blows cool air onto his wet cock, chin dribbling spit and precum. 

 

The pup lets out a broken sob - oh, so _close_ \- but Stiles shushes him soothingly, crawling back up his body to make love to his mouth. 

 

“There, there, baby. Mama's here,” he says, and Jackson mewls, greedily taking in the taste of himself on Stiles' lips and chin.

 

“Please,” he begs and Stiles starts to rocks his hips against his own, rubbing their pulsing cocks together. They moan into the other's mouth, sloppily making out with each other as Stiles props himself up on his forearms beside the blond's head and Jackson's hands slide down his back to palm and squeeze his ass, making Stiles mewl.

 

“That's it. I want to see you two rutting against each other just like that,” Derek rumbles, red eyes flaring up hotly as sweat dots his temples, his shirt sticking to his torso that would have made Michelangelo weep as his fist blurs over his rock-hard cock, aching for a hole to fuck, “Let's see if you can make yourselves cum like this. No hands, no penetration.”

 

Stiles whines, hips stuttering into Jackson as his puffy asshole flexes around the toy still knotted inside him. “Daddy. No fair...”

 

Derek hums, his voice deceptively calm, “Are you complaining, pet?”

 

Ducking his head, Stiles shakes it 'no', but mutters under his breath, “So _mean_.”

 

Derek smirks wickedly at that. “You like it when I'm mean. Now do as I say. I know you can take it.”

 

With a soft, broken sound Stiles obeys and gets to work, frotting against Jackson with one goal in mind. He focuses his sights on the omega below him; the moist, plush softness of his parted lips, how pretty his eyes are – open and trusting and so very _blue;_ that fucking adorable blush staining his beautiful face, strong and sharp and masculine, but so unlike the dark handsome ruggedness that Derek possesses, almost angelic in certain lights. 

 

Suddenly an image of how the pup would look on Derek's lap comes to mind, writhing and moaning like a bitch in heat with his thighs spread wide on either side of Derek's hips before flopping down to rest limply on his Alpha's chest, stuck on his knot, ass hot and sore from the spanking Daddy's just given him. Derek's hand would come to rest on a rosy red cheek, petting and fondling it possessively like it belonged there before one finger slips in between to rub at where they're tied, the pup's hole fluttering around his hot engorged knot at his touch.

 

“Fuck,” Stiles whimpers, his ass spasming around the toy inside him at the thought. He wants that, wants to see that particular fantasy come true ASAP; his big, strong Alpha putting their little omega in his place, pinned underneath his chest where he belongs – on his back or with his ass up in the air, it doesn't really matter - as they rut like the animals inside. Mmm.

 

The two boys hump and grind their hips together as best they can, sweaty and wanton in their mounting desperation as they arch and strain against each other erotically.

 

“Mm- _ah,_ ” Jackson pants, thrusting into the space where Stiles' thigh meets his hip, his hands rhythmically squeezing and massaging the brunet's soft ass cheeks. “Fuck, that's good - more!” he demands, his fingers slipping into Stiles' crack and firmly pressing against the dildo buried inside.

 

Stiles lets out a startled gasp, not expecting the hot rush of tingling pleasure to overtake his already muddled senses. It blinds him momentarily before he's pushing himself up to kneel on shaky limbs, making Jackson whine in protest. This is not what the blond wanted _at all_. 

 

Above him, Stiles wants to reassure the pup but the need for better leverage takes top priority, his body wobbling slightly until he spreads his knees for balance and grabs at Jackson's legs to throw his calves over his shoulders. Satisfied with the new position, he holds Jackson down and fucks hard against the pup's dick like a man possessed, frantically chasing after his own orgasm.

 

“Ah, ah, Stiles! Yeah, like that!” Jackson cries out, breath stuttering as he does his best to meet Stiles' hurried thrust for thrust. “Oh, so _good_...”

 

“Pretty bitch, pretty baby,” Derek growls roughly from the computer screen, his wolf clearly in the driver's seat as he works himself over furiously towards the edge, “Can't wait to come home. Gonna mount you and fuck you, breed you both 'til you cry and cum on my knot.”

 

“ _Yes,_ make it good. Make me cum,” Jackson begs, thrashing against the sheets. “Please, oh please, I want it, Alpha, mount me _please._ ”

 

“Bet your tight little boy cunt's wet and ready for me, isn't it baby? Don't worry, Daddy's gonna fill you up with so much cum, lock it all inside your pretty boy pussy with my knot until you're full and bulging with pups.”

 

“You two will make the prettiest babies,” Stiles moans out, and with a choked gasp, his pup cums just like that, the omega's lonely hole grasping for the phantom knot it craves as Jackson shudders through his climax, white striping his chest and stomach before petering out in gushes. Groaning loudly at the sight, Stiles follows soon after, adding to the hot sticky mess pooling on Jackson's abs.

 

Catching his breath, he runs a hand through the mess and flicks his tongue out to let himself have a taste before pushing two fingers into Jackson's open mouth. The pup eagerly sucks on them, lapping up the last vestiges clinging to the digits as well as the others and Stiles' palm until Stiles pulls it away to take his mouth with his own, sharing their mingled essence together.

 

On screen, Derek cums as well with a gruff snarl, rumbling out his contentment afterward and absently bringing his soiled hand up to his mouth to lick clean.

 

Both his boys snap to attention and zero in on him hungrily, their tongues darting out to wet swollen kiss-bruised lips. They want a taste of their Alpha too. No fair.

 

He smiles, slow and predatory. 

 

“Patience, pups. I'm not done with the two of you just yet. Though, I do hope you're enjoying yourselves so far... especially you, Stiles.” His mate gulps at being mentioned and looks back at him wide-eyed as he continues menacingly, “Don't think you're getting out of punishment for this little stunt - inviting Jackson to our play time without my permission - no matter how pleasant a surprise it turned out to be. Savor tonight because when I get home, your asses are _mine._ ”

 

Both his boys whimper at that and cling to each other.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Hours later the two collapse in a tangle of panting sweaty limbs covered in tears and cum and saliva, the dildo now firmly knotted in Jackson's drenched asshole. 

 

He's on his stomach, Stiles flopped over the length of his back as the brunet rides out his last orgasm of the night, rutting against his stuffed pucker in between his slippery cum covered ass cheeks until he finally goes soft and still.

 

Stiles sighs happily, presses butterfly kisses to every available patch of skin he can reach and snuffles at his neck and face, making him purr sleepily. 

 

He hears his Alpha chuckle, detecting an underlining layer of fondness in the pretty sound. 

 

“Go to sleep, pups. I'll see you two soon.”

 

“Mmf. G'night, Daddy. I love you,” Stiles calls out from over Jackson's shoulder, whiskey eyes blinking sluggishly at the computer.

 

“Night, Alpha,” Jackson says, chin resting on folded forearms as soft red eyes regard them tenderly, almost like they couldn't believe what they're seeing, like Derek couldn't believe they were _his._

 

His silly sentimental Alpha gets like that sometimes - with the rest of the pack too - like he couldn't believe he's allowed to be this happy, couldn't believe he deserves such a good life after everything he's been through, and doesn't that just make Jackson wanna puppy-pile him along with the others until the older wolf feels better about himself. The omega makes a mental note to talk to the rest of pack about it later. They're due for one soon anyway.

 

“Love you, too,” Derek quietly replies back, “Proud of you two. My beautiful boys.” Stiles gives a little wiggle and a happy noise at that and Jackson smiles sweetly for his Alpha. Oh, yeah, puppy pile is definitely on in the near future. “Sweet dreams.”


	11. Carnelian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINALLY FINISHED THIS BLASTED CHAPTER. orz Please enjoy some more threesome smut.
> 
> For those of yu who didn't want the Derek/Stiles/Jackson threesome, skip this chapter. Please and tank yu!

Derek arrives home and quietly shuts the front door with a sigh, cracking his neck to alleviate the kinks as he makes his way to his part of the house he shares with Stiles. One cursory sniff tells him that most of the pack are out and about for the evening but if he listens closely, there are two steady heartbeats waiting for him in their private den.

 

He sets his luggage down by the entrance way and nudges the door open.

 

Inside he finds his boys curled up on the couch, each dressed in one of his shirts, some thigh highs, and not much else. Stiles, clad in Derek's henley, has a hand in Jackson's soft blond hair, the other palm sliding up a smooth muscled thigh while the omega's fingers are creeping up Stiles' back and sides under the shirt. The long sleeves of Derek's starched white oxford covered up half of the pup's hands, almost like a little boy wearing his Daddy's clothing as their mouths slowly move and meld against each other in lazy harmony.

 

Derek leans back against the door frame to watch and waits patiently, and sure enough Jackson tenses - ears perking up - and turns his head, pulling away from Stiles who makes a noise of protest.

 

“Alpha,” the pup says, blue eyes lighting up when they spot him, and Stiles snaps out of his daze and whips his head around at that.

 

“Derek!” his mate grins at him delightedly and tugs Jackson up from the couch.

 

Derek pushes off the wall and meets them halfway, wrapping his arms around them both when they draw near, and immediately leans in to nip at Stiles' soft lips while Jackson lays his head on his shoulder, the pup content to watch his two Alphas make out in front of him.

 

“Welcome home,” Stiles mumbles in between kisses, nuzzling at Derek's scruff.

 

“Glad to be back,” Derek murmurs back against Stiles' mouth, nudging their noses together in a cute Eskimo kiss before turning to press his lips to Jackson's forehead. The pup gives a happy little yip and rubs his cheek against Derek's neck affectionately in response, scenting him.

 

He purrs deep from his chest, the wolf awakening, eyes flickering to red.

 

Home, sweet home.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“ _Mmhf~_ ”

 

Twin sighs of pleasure escape as lips drag across Derek's solid flesh, greedy mouths softly sucking and nibbling gently, teasing him to hardness as they get every bit of him wet with saliva.

 

The Alpha is sitting in the middle of the couch - a king on his throne – still mostly clothed with his boys kneeling on the floor between his spread thighs, their heads buried in his lap as they lick and slurp at his uncovered cock like the world's most succulent treat, eager tongues lapping at every inch of skin within range.

 

Stiles is busy tonguing his cock head out of its sheath, pleased little sounds leaving his throat while Jackson ducks low to get at his heavy balls, tugging underwear out of the way with his teeth then noisily take one and then the other into his warm, wet mouth. Both boys' hands stay loose and docile between their parted thighs, waiting for whatever and whenever their Alpha commands them.

 

Overhead Derek relaxes back in his seat, his own hands coming down to pet their hair, fingers tangling in blond and brunet strands alike. Stiles' hair had grown out soft and fluffy, enough for Derek to tug and pull as he pleases. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the heady pungent aroma of their combined arousal permeating the air, and releases a deep throaty purr.

 

“Fuck, your _mouth,_ ” he growls, eyes flashing, voice going rough and husky as he thrusts up once into Stiles' mouth when his mate deep-throats him all the way down to the root. Stiles whimpers, swallowing around him and hollowing out his cheeks as Jackson whines quietly right there beside him, nosing his flushed face and flicking his tongue out to lick at Stiles' stretched, gaping lips.

 

Derek rumbles low and lets them play a little while longer, lets Stiles pull up enough to suckle at the head of the cock as Jackson laps at his shaft, before tugging them away from his groin with a grunted “Enough.”

 

His boys whine in protest, but comply easily when he takes hold of their chins and turns them to face each other, glazed golden brown meeting lustful arctic blue.

 

“Kiss,” he says and urges them together with a hand on their heads, Jackson going lax in his grip and letting his Alpha guide him where he wants him. The blond's mouth slots perfectly into Stiles' like a two-piece puzzle, and Derek allows them to melt into each other on their own, his palms coming down to cup the back of their necks.

 

The two start to pant and groan as they get into it, sucking on each other's tongues and lips in turn and generally making a mess of their mouths for Derek's viewing pleasure.

 

It's slutty and sloppy and when their lips are nice and puffy, shiny and spit-slick, Derek tugs them away from each other before taking their mouths for his own, one after the other.

 

He pulls away with a soft suck and Stiles whimpers piteously, eyes clouded with pleasure as he makes the motion of following after him. “Derek...”

 

Derek indulges him. “Up,” he urges, tugging Stiles up by his collar until the boy is scrambling up to straddle his lap.

 

Making soft quiet noises under his breath, Stiles wraps his arms around his mate's broad shoulders and tucks his head underneath Derek's jaw, nosing at his scruff like a pup seeking comfort.

 

Derek croons, cups and fondles his bare ass under his oversized shirt, giving it a squeeze before lifting his hand and delivering a hard, healthy swat to the bottom of Stiles' bum.

 

Stiles yelps and squirms in his mate's lap, stilling only when Derek grabs hold of his hips and growls low into his ear. “Settle, pet.”

 

The boy does so with a mewl, parting his lips when Derek captures them with his own for a brief kiss.

 

“Good boy,” murmurs Derek, “Sweet boy. Perfect. _Mine_.”

 

Stiles shivers and bites his lip before hiding his blushing face in Derek's neck. The Alpha allows it for now, stroking the smooth creamy dotted skin of his back.

 

“Listen carefully to me, okay, baby?” Getting a nod, he continues, “You're going to receive your punishment, and by the end of it if you're still a good boy for me, you can join Jackson in his reward. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Stiles mumbles and lifts his head from his spot for another kiss. Derek gives it to him before pulling away to start. He has even better things to get to tonight.

 

“Count.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

For the next several minutes the only sounds in the room are their heavy breathing, the _woosh_ of Derek's hand flying through the air, the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh, and Stiles stuttering his numbers out loud when contact is made.

 

By five, Stiles' bottom has turned a lovely shade of pink. Jackson hasn't been able to look away for even an instant. In fact, Derek is pretty sure the pup hasn't even _blinked_ since the spanking had started.

 

By ten, Stiles' face is flushed to match, voice hitching and coming out louder with every other number he calls out.

 

By the last swat, the boy's positively squirming, undulating wantonly in his Alpha's lap as Derek's hand comes down hard, gasping out a shrill “twenty!” while he continues to grind his aching cock against Derek's ridiculous abs through his own black henley.

 

He lets out a high needy sound when Derek grabs two handfuls of his abused ass and squeezes, long thick fingers spreading his blushing cheeks to reveal his hidden pucker, the tantalizing little furl winking at Jackson.

 

The omega makes a hungry noise from the back of his throat and when Derek crooks a finger, he's on it like nobody's business, eagerly burrowing his face into Stiles' crevice to get at his pucker.

 

Stiles lets out a yelp - not expecting such enthusiasm – before he's groaning lewdly, wiggling his ass into Jackson's face as the omega eats out his hole, that talented tongue delving in deep and ravenous, twisting and twirling - getting everything hot and messy.

 

Derek purrs and cards his fingers through the silky blond locks, holding the pup's head in place as if he needed any further prompting. Such a good pup.

 

“A-ah,” Stiles mewls against his lips, “ _Fuck_ , so deep – ahh!” The boy's pink mouth falls open as he grinds back onto Jackson's face, riding that tongue as it fucks up into him repeatedly, hard rapid jabs leaving him flushed and trembling. “Mmh~Jackson,” he breathes out, voice hitching on a gasp, “ _Nn_...!”

 

Derek takes his mouth with his own again to shut him up, sucking on Stiles' tongue as Jackson groans happily from his spot on the floor.

 

The pup whines softly when Derek eventually nudges him away with a gentle push to the forehead, but is content with suckling on the offered fingers he gets instead.

 

Once slick enough, he watches on hungrily as Derek fingers Stiles open in front of him until the Alpha has three thick fingers buried in the other boy's ass, milking his prostate and forcing loud desperate cries from Stiles.

 

Next, Derek orders the pup to fetch him the lube that's tucked away in a side drawer, withdrawing his fingers only to coat them more thoroughly as well as his throbbing cock before resuming prepping his mate.

 

Then he fucks Stiles hard, exchanging his fingers for his dick in one smooth fluid move, burying himself deep into his boy until he's bottoming out, murmuring about next time and a mirror as Stiles clings to his mate and shakes apart in his lap.

 

Derek doesn't give him time to adjust, picking up a hard punishing pace and fucking up into the hot tight clench of his asshole as he fucks Stiles' mouth with his tongue, muffling his cries.

 

He tilts his hips just so and Stiles throws his head back to shout out his pleasure, loving the slight burn of being split open so good and fucking himself down onto Derek's dick to try and get him to hit that spot again.

 

“Daddy,” he begs, hands scrambling at Derek's shoulders, “Daddy, knot me. Plug me up – _please._ ”

 

Derek growls and spanks his tender ass, reveling in every sexy little noise his mate utters. “Baby boy's such a slut for Alpha's knot.”

 

A whimpered “ _Yes!_ ” is all the werewolf needs to drive home, pistoning in and out of Stiles until he's all but pounding his boy into next week.

 

Stiles sobs and arches into it, exposing his chest to Derek, and the Alpha takes the opening for what it is, pushing up his shirt to reveal pink perky nipples and latching onto one, suckling like a babe.

 

The brunet moans weakly and cradles his mate's bowed head, shaky fingers sliding through soft dark locks of hair as Derek methodically takes him apart, laving at the bud with the flat of his tongue, circling it with the tip, before switching once it becomes too sensitive.

 

Soon Stiles could feel the beginnings of the knot bulging, catching briefly onto the rim of his hole with each thrust, but before it could fully form and tie them together, Derek slows down and stops, making Stiles whine. Derek shushes him with a kiss, then urges him stand up from his lap onto shaky legs and turns him around.

 

When he does, Stiles sees Jackson sitting there on the floor in front of him, hard red cock bobbing in between his legs as his hands grip his thighs like the good boy he is, and Stiles couldn't resist leaning down to give the blond a brief dirty little kiss. His sweet puppy whimpers and licks at his lips begging for entrance, but before Stiles could give it to him, he breaks the kiss off with a yelp, throwing an angry pout over his shoulder at his smirking Alpha mate when Derek smacks his ass again.

 

He's guided down to sit on Derek's cock, sinking back down onto it with a drawn out moan with his legs spread wide and hooked over Derek's knees. The growing knot finally pops through and stays after Derek grips his hips and thrusts up one more time, jabbing further into his ass until Derek couldn't really move anymore, resorting to rocking his hips and grinding his knot into Stiles' prostate instead as he cums with a grunt.

 

Stiles throws his head back to rest on Derek's shoulder, panting breathlessly. He closes his eyes and mewls when the wolf licks the shell of his ear in one long stroke.

 

“Don't cum just yet,” Derek murmurs, nosing at his collar, and he whines softly but nods, opening his eyes again just in time to see Derek crook a finger at Jackson. “Come here, pup.”

 

Jackson whimpers, big blue eyes looking up at Derek imploringly as the pup crawls over on his hands and knees, rubbing his cheek on his Alpha's knee when he nears them.

 

The older wolf takes a deep whiff of the air. He can smell just how wet his pup is and reaches down to press his thumb against soft plush lips, scarlet eyes darkening when those lips part and a little pink tongue darts out for a lick.

 

He grips soft blond hair and pulls the pup towards Stiles' leaking erection, wordlessly demanding what he wants.

 

Immediately Jackson goes for Stiles' balls, nuzzling and lapping at them eagerly, flicking and dipping his tongue to taste where his Alphas are connected. He's gradually guided upwards by the hand in his hair, licking the underside of Stiles' dick and tonguing just under the head before curling his tongue around the mushroom cap and pulling it into his mouth to suckle on.

 

Above him, Stiles is writhing in Derek's lap, soft choked off moans falling from his lips as he watches Jackson toy around with his dick in that soft wet mouth of his, the henley he's wearing gently rubbing and scratching at his sensitive nipples. “Jackson,” he says, breathless, “More.” Raising a hand to join Derek's, Stiles tugs on the blond locks gently before rolling his pelvis up to meet Jackson's face.

 

Behind him, Derek growls and holds Jackson's head still before punching his hips up and forcing Stiles all the way down the omega's throat.

 

Jackson chokes, coughing and pulling back slightly for a shaky breath before going back down for more. On the next thrust up, he's ready for it, throat opening up around Stiles and taking him down easily with a needy groan.

 

He's always been a quick study, always wanting to be the best at everything, the little over achiever. Blow jobs and gay sex in general are no exceptions. Danny could attest to that.

 

“Oh fuck, that's so hot,” Stiles moans, sweaty brow scrunching up and toes curling in his thigh highs as he gasps and bites at his lip when Derek starts up a hard steady rhythm, knot constantly knocking up against his prostate while Jackson does his best to devour him whole with his sweet perfect suction in the meantime. “A-ah, ahhh~ _Jackson_...”

 

Hearing his name uttered in such a wrecked voice, the pup whimpers, warm omega slick dripping down his thighs as glowing blue eyes look up at Stiles adoringly, only ever wanting to please.

 

“Such a good boy, baby,” Stiles coos at him and pets him, throwing his head back with a hot gasp when the blond gives him a particularly hard suck, “so good for me.”

 

Derek agrees with a pleased rumble, scenting the sweet perfume of aroused omega and mate in the air, before he turns his head to capture Stiles' lips in a hungry little kiss while he continues to rock his hips up and grind his knot deeper into his mate's tight little channel, as well as fuck his omega's pretty face at the same time.

 

When Stiles' hole starts to spasm around him, he finally murmurs, “Go ahead, pet. Cum,” and Stiles moans gratefully in relief, clenching his asshole around Derek's dick and arching up into Jackson's face before emptying himself down the blond's steadily working throat.

 

Jackson takes it all like a pro, swallowing every drop he's given before gently easing off when Stiles starts to whine from oversensitivity.

 

Derek thumbs away the little bit of semen clinging to his omega's bottom lip and Jackson sucks it clean.

 

“Cum slut,” the Alpha says affectionately and Jackson purrs, kissing the palm cradling his cheek.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“A-ah...ahhh...ahh!” Stiles manages to get out, gasping for breath before he's led back onto Derek's dick.

 

Behind him, Jackson's whining under his breath. He's leaning back on his hands, balanced on the balls of his feet with his thighs spread wide froggy style, hips pressed flush to Stiles' before he's pulling back only to slam back in over and over again, blue eyes mesmerized by the vision of his dick easily gliding into Stile's wet loosened hole repeatedly.

 

“Nmh!” Face flushed with tears pricking his eyes, Stiles swallows around Derek's thick girth, dark lashes fluttering shut as his throat works over the length with expertise cultivated from many, _many_ hours of practice, while his hips move in time to meet Jackson on every thrust for optimal pleasure.

 

Jackson groans at the sight and sounds and smells of his Alphas together - Stiles blowing Derek with his knees on the floor - furiously working his hips until he can't take it anymore, too aroused by the thought of actually rutting Stiles after Derek had just bred him, the older wolf's warm cum – or what's left of it after Jackson had lapped up all the excess that had escaped Stiles' hole and trickled down his thighs - sloshing around inside his mate from Jackson's rough, jagged movements.

 

“Alpha,” he pleads, blue eyes begging even as he couldn't tear away for the view of Stiles' pink opened hole trying to cling to his dick, “gonna cum. Please let me cum.”

 

Lidded red irises stare him down and Derek purrs softly in satisfaction, loving his boy's sweet submission, “Go ahead, pretty pup. Stuff him full.”

 

His pup does so with a moan, ever the obedient omega, thrusting in deep one last time before releasing a hot pulsing stream of warmth into Stiles' ass, adding to the pool of semen Derek had released earlier. Shifting to rest onto his knees, he drapes himself over Stiles' back and snakes his arms around his middle.

 

Stiles whimpers around Derek's cock, sucking his mate off desperately, wanting to get off too.

 

He's about to reach for his own dick when Derek stops him. “Ah-ah, pet,” tsks the Alpha, “You know better than that. You cum when I say you can.”

 

Then Derek grabs a hold of his head with both hands and _fucks_ his face, hips pistoning in and out of his throat like a fucking sex machine.

 

Stiles' eyes roll to the back of his head as his mouth goes slack, moaning loudly, throat spasming and constricting around the column of solid flesh as he tries to catch his breath through his nose while Jackson whimpers behind him, his asshole mimicking his throat and doing the same things to the pup. Going limp, he relaxes and lets Derek use him as he sees fit. Yey for no gag reflex!

 

“Ah, fuck,” Derek grunts as he buries Stiles' nose into his pubes and growls when he cums a second time. “ _Fuck._ ”

 

The wolf shoots his load and holds Stiles there until his mate swallows everything, letting him up only when the boy starts to whimper for air.

 

Slowly, Stiles pulls away, a string of spittle and cum connecting his swollen red mouth to Derek's half-hard cock briefly before it breaks and lands on his chin. He slumps back into Jackson, whose softened dick is still nestled deep inside him.

 

The pup cradles him close and holds him upright, cuddles up his back and presses soft little kisses up and down his neck as his heartbeat begins to slow down a bit and he catches his breath.

 

Humming lazily, Stiles turns his head for a kiss which is gladly given, moaning a little when Jackson licks up the taste of his Alpha on his tongue and slides his hands under his shirt to play with his nipples, fingering and plucking the sensitive buds until they go tight and harden into little peaks.

 

He flinches when Derek presses a socked foot to his hard wet cock, neglected for the time being up until now, and feels Jackson slip out, pushing a plug into his ass to keep all the cum inside.

 

“Bedroom,” is all Derek growls before they're scrambling up onto legs made of jelly and stumbling into the Master suite, collapsing onto the gigantic nest of blankets and pillows that make up most of the Alpha pair's sleeping quarters.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Now Stiles finds himself bound and gagged in the huge bed he and Derek share, the bottom of the henley he's still wearing stuffed into his mouth, exposing his chest to the air.

 

Between his spread thighs, Jackson - having lost the oxford – is mouthing at his cock, often forced to stop so he can whine and whimper in need, rolling his pelvis back into Derek's face where the Alpha – bared from all his clothing- is busying eating out his asshole.

 

Derek groans when a fresh burst of slick spills forth, nipping the rim of his hole before tonguing at the pink furl aggressively for more.

 

High desperate keening escapes Jackson's throat as he's reduced to nothing but a writhing wanton creature of pleasure; then blue eyes go wide when he feels Derek slide in two thick fingers, the digits going in easily.

 

“So wet for me,” Derek murmurs, almost conversationally, “Bet I can make you cum just like this.” He raises a brow when Jackson vigorously shakes his head at that. “No? But I want to see...”

 

Jackson opens his mouth to try and speak through his noises but fails when Derek twists his wrist and drills into his prostate relentlessly. “Ah, ah, Alpha, no, ah!”

 

The pup bites his lip, shakes and shivers hard before he finally manages to string a few coherent words together, “No, please, don't wanna cum yet, please.” Wriggling his ass in the air, he rubs himself against the soft pillow shoved under his hips keeping him propped up, and looks over his shoulder with hazy pleading eyes, “Want your knot in me first.”

 

Derek chuckles deep and low. “Naughty pup,” he says and spanks his ass, getting a mewl in return. He growls, red eyes flashing strong, “Yeah, I'll give that juicy pussy a good fucking. Have you moaning like the cock hungry slut I know you are. Would you like that, pretty?”

 

Jackson whines. “Yes, Alpha. Please - fuck my pussy,” he moans, blushing deep to the roots of his hair as he nuzzles his embarrassed face into Stiles' pelvis. The brunet makes a muffled noise of sympathy before undulating his hips for attention.

 

Jackson noses his way back to Stiles' dick, giving the other boy a shy little smile before taking him back into his mouth to suck on. He keens when his Alpha give the globes of his ass a squeeze and another playful smack to his bum before nudging his thighs further apart.

 

A hand rests low on his back and then Jackson feels the blunt head of Derek's cock easing its way into his slick silken passage.

 

“A- _ahhh~_ ”

 

He throws his head back and moans erotically, gripping Stiles' ass in his hands as he rocks back onto his Alpha's dick in desperate need. “Oh _god_...”

 

His hole opens up greedily and Jackson goes slutty for it, making all these little wanton noises, just begging to be fucked.

 

Behind him, Derek grabs hold of his hips and pushes his own forward until he bottoms out, pressed flush to his pretty little omega, and grinds his pelvis into circles against Jackson's firm supple rump.

 

“ _Hnngh,_ ” Jackson pants and struggles to stay still, wanting to get on with it already, sweat coating his flushed skin like dew drops.

 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” Derek purrs and leans down to pepper kisses down the blond's arched spine. “Such a tight little boy cunt you have for me. Mmm, yeah, and it's mine, isn't it.”

 

“Y-yes, Alpha. Yours – ah, _ahn_ , yes! Mmh!”

 

Up by the head of the bed, Stiles is whimpering and tugging on the silk ropes tying him to the rungs of the headboard. He wants to touch, dammit, but this is still part of his punishment so he has to bite down and bear it. Didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the view though...

 

Across the span of Jackson's young athletic body, Derek catches his gaze and smirks lewdly before straightening up with purpose. The Alpha continues to roll his hips dutifully into Jackson and lets his head loll back a little, lidded scarlet red orbs never leaving his wide doe brown eyes as the slap of flesh on flesh grows increasingly louder.

 

Between them so does Jackson, openly moaning with his mouth red and wet and lush against Stiles' thigh. He wants to please his Alpha, wants to be good; held down and fucked, ridden hard and put away wet.

 

With a snap of his hips and another smack to the ass, Derek gives it to him, pins him with a hand in between his shoulder blades and rides his ass like a bucking bronco.

 

After a while of being used like a bitch in heat, Derek slides his palms up his sides and hooks them under his shoulders, abruptly hauling the omega up onto spread knees so he can fuck him upright.

 

Jackson bites back a yelp at the sudden change, but settles in Derek's lap when the Alpha cups his throat with a big hand - gentle but secure, a total opposite of how hard and rough Derek is pounding into him from behind.

 

Feeling infinitely safe in his Alpha's arms, he leans back into Derek's chest and goes limp, lazily gyrating on the thick ram-hard cock inside him with a sigh. “Mmn...Fuck...”

 

Derek purrs at his trust and his submission, turns the pup's head for a kiss; his other hand petting his exposed abs and tummy before trailing down further to stroke a strong shapely thigh through the stocking, then sliding over to wrap around Jackson's turgid length and giving it a squeeze, getting a heated moan in return.

 

He jerks him off in time with his thrusts as he licks into the pup's mouth, the hand at Jackson's throat sliding down to lightly rub and pinch at his perky nipples.

 

Jackson writhes against him, an arm around Derek's head and neck while his other hand grips Derek's busy wrist in his lap to anchor himself, feeling the tendons flex and muscle ripple underneath his touch as he moves seamlessly with the furious bump and grind of his Alpha's hips.

 

He breaks their kiss, throws his head back and cries out when Derek strikes his prostate, baring his neck to the older wolf who gladly takes advantage of it, biting and marking it up and down the side of his vulnerable throat, claiming him as his.

 

Blurry blue eyes flutter open to find wide pleading amber way across the sea of sheets and pillows between them and he whimpers softly, wanting to comfort and soothe.

 

Stiles squirms impatiently, achingly hard cock lying flat on his belly as he rocks his hips against the bed to push the plug that's snug inside him just that much deeper into him, before clenching down on it in frustration when his stocking covered foot slips against the sheets. It isn't enough!

 

“Patience, mate. Be still,” comes Derek's sinfully gruff voice and Jackson shivers from hearing it breathed into his ear, “You'll get yours soon enough.”

 

Stiles lets out a small petulant whine at the scrumptious sight his Alpha and omega make, but does as he's told. Jackson commiserates.

 

Derek's eyes flash dangerously.

 

'Ooh,' Stiles thinks, shivering deliciously, 'sexy.'

 

“Watch.” Holding Stiles' eyes, Derek deliberately grinds up into Jackson's ass and holds - one, two – before pulling out again only to repeat.

 

After the third time, Jackson could feel something tug at his rim with each pull out, and his eyes widen a fraction.

 

Derek's knot. He's going to be knotted.

 

“Mm, _yes_. Finally,” he purrs languorously, arching into Derek's embrace and spreads his thighs further so Stiles could get a clear view, “Knot me, Alpha.”

 

“Pushy boy,” Derek admonishes without heat, nipping his ear. “Gonna breed you full.”

 

“Yes, _please_.”

 

In front of them Stiles mewls, wanting to see it happen and Derek doesn't disappoint his boys.

 

With a low seductive growl, he holds onto Jackson's hips and goes for broke, fucking his omega pup wet and open, the sloppy _'shulp, shulp'_ noises making the two boys blush darkly. It's so _dirty,_ so absolutely fucking _filthy;_ they love it.

 

Sweet omega slickness slowly oozes down the insides of Jackson's thighs as his Alpha fucks him full of his knot, his tight little cunt clenching down on it when it finally pushes all the way through and stays.

 

Jackson's sweating profusely, flushed all the way down chest, and revels in the feeling of being tied to his Alpha good and proper, mewling when the older wolf finally cums inside him.

 

Derek rumbles deep from his chest, satisfied and sated from a good rut.

 

Carefully, he shuffles his pup up the bed and guides him down to splay out on top of Stiles so the two can frot it out.

 

Jackson slithers up Stiles' body until their cocks line up and tugs the make shift shirt-gag out of his mouth with his teeth, earning a little mewl before Stiles is surging up and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

 

He purrs and happily opens his mouth for their tongues to touch, the two of them not noticing Derek leaning over to untie Stiles' hands until they realize the brunet can move them again.

 

Jackson reaches up and tenderly massages Stiles' wrists, noting how pink they were from his struggles, but it was superficial damage, otherwise no harm done. (Like Derek would ever hurt his Alpha-mate.)

 

He pulls them to his lips to kiss them better and Stiles smiles at him, slow and happy.

 

The aforementioned Alpha watches them avidly from his dominant position leaned back on his knees, all big and bad with glowing crimson eyes like the wolf he is, rubbing circles into Jackson's hip and groping the pup's supple ass possessively with his other hand.

 

He idly brushes his thumb against Jackson's stuffed rim and hums in dark amusement when he gets a whimper.

 

His two bottom boys moan and start to rut against each other urgently, desperately chasing their own orgasms; Stiles' hole pulsating and clenching down on his plug as Jackson's entrance flutters and contracts around Derek's knot. Feeling generous, the Alpha helps them along and thrusts and grinds and circles his hips until they finally cum with a drawn out groan against each other's lips, smelling of youth and boy and exhausted pleasure.

 

Derek growls soothingly and strokes them everywhere he can as they come down from their high, making sure they're comfortable.

 

Once they've calmed and his knot has gone down, he pulls out and gives Jackson a plug of his own to keep him full.

 

The pup flops onto his side and snuggles into Stiles, the two grinning and giggling and trading sleepy kisses.

 

Blue and brown eyes look up and Stiles flails an arm towards Derek, making tired grabby hands at his mate.

 

Chuckling under his breath, Derek complies and lays over their pliant bodies, accepting kisses and nuzzles from them both.

 

With some wiggling and some shuffling around, Stiles and Jackson manage to get their Alpha on his back in between them and cuddle right up to him, one on either side.

 

Laying their heads on his chest and throwing a leg over his, they completely block Derek in. Not that he was complaining. Not at all.

 

Derek wraps an arm around them both, absently trailing his fingers across the miles of soft smooth skin on both sides. He knows in a bit they're going to have to get up and get clean, but for now, the three of them relax and cuddle, Jackson running a hand over his heart and Stiles rubbing his tummy, smiling mischievously when he gets a purr-growl and snuffle for his efforts.


	12. Amaranth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm so sorry this is way late, but RL has been busy as all hell. Hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Also, I butchered Tony's accent. orz I tried to write it as I pictured it in my head. If anyone has any other suggestions on how to write how he speaks, feel free to shoot a message my way!

Sunlight filters through the open curtains the next morning and Stiles wrinkles his nose when it finally reaches his closed eyelids, not wanting to wake up just yet.

 

Eventually, he huffs and languidly blinks the room into focus, snuffling into Derek's chest before looking over to see Jackson's peaceful face still slack with slumber on the Alpha's other side.

 

He reaches over and lightly traces the curve of his face with a fingertip, smiling when Jackson twitches and hazy blue eyes slowly flutter open under his touch.

 

“G'morning, sexy,” he whispers, grinning, and gets a shy muzzy one in return.

 

“Morning,” Jackson yawns, nuzzling his cheek into Stiles' open palm with a hum and giving the meat of his thumb a little peck.

 

Stiles coos and couldn't help rising up onto an elbow to lean over for a kiss, slow and loving - thankful they'd brushed their teeth last night because bad morning breath? Ick.

 

“Mm,” he purrs, pulling away a bit. “Wanna help me make breakfast?” he asks, nudging their noses together.

 

“Yeah. Sure,” Jackson says in reply, rubbing at his eye and blinking before they get up and carefully extract themselves from Derek's arms. He snickers when he sees the boxers Stiles had pulled on last night after their shower – white with red hearts decorating it as opposed to his own navy blue boxer briefs – and Stiles sticks his tongue out at him playfully.

 

The brunet replaces himself with his own pillow when Derek unconsciously begins seeking for something to cuddle up against now that they weren't pressed up to him, the big softie.

 

The two stifle their sniggers when Derek clutches the pillow to his chest and snuffles into it, inhaling Stiles' scent in his sleep before turning onto his side, curling himself around it. It won't hold him for long, so they amble into the adjoining bathroom to freshen up and put on lounge clothes before heading downstairs to the kitchen to start breakfast, hand in hand with their fingers lazily tangled together.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Since it's Valentine's day, Stiles is busy manning the stove making heart shaped pancakes with the help a large cookie cutter stencil while the waffle maker - complete with interchangeable plates – sits next to him on the counter cooking up heart shaped waffles.

 

Jackson is on his other side slicing up fruit in the shape of hearts - strawberries, oranges, even little banana slices.

 

The two work together in compatible silence, moving around each other easily until Jackson's ears perk up and he turns his head towards the entrance way, Stiles following suit after he plates his latest fluffy golden pancake.

 

Just as he'd thought, it didn't take long for Derek to get up and find them once he realized he was alone in bed, the Alpha adorably sleep rumpled standing there in only his pajama bottoms with his feet poking out, knuckling at his barely opened eyes one-handed with his hair laying flat on his head from lack of product.

 

He shuffles into the kitchen groggily like a zombie, following his nose until it finds itself attached to Stiles' neck after a gentle bump, making the boys chuckle.

 

“Morning, sleepy wolf!” Stiles greets him affectionately with a kiss to his temple, reaching a hand up to scratch at Derek's scalp.

 

“Mmph,” is his grunted reply as Derek snuffles and burrows his face into the hollow of his throat above his ever-present collar, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind to anchor him in place.

 

This is not meant to be, though, as Stiles wiggles around in his embrace until they're chest to chest, cradling the wolf's face in his hands before leaning in for a proper kiss good morning, which gets him another purr-growl from Derek.

 

The Alpha gently scents his face, trailing his nose down the curve of his cheek before pulling back to give his mate a little smile underneath sleepy hazel eyes.

 

Stiles' heart warms at the sight, because that smile is only meant for him. He grins in return before Derek turns his head and reaches out a hand to grab Jackson.

 

The pup comes willingly when Derek tugs at his arm, and parts his lips when his Alpha leans in for a kiss hello from him too.

 

Stiles sighs happily. Honestly, he could watch them make out for hours (and he has). It's like his own private live gay porn. _So epically awesome._

 

When they part, Derek scents his omega as well, cradling both his boys to his chest and rubbing his scruffy cheek against the top of their heads.

 

Stiles laughs while Jackson soaks in all of his Alpha's affections serenely.

 

“Why don't you get started on setting the table, hm? I'll put Derek on fruit duty now that he's up and about,” says Stiles after a while of calm morning cuddles, giving Jackson a quick nose-nudge.

 

The blond nods and rubs his cheek against Stiles', getting once last peck from Derek before sauntering off towards the cabinets.

 

He doesn't get far before the sounds of running footsteps catches all of their attention.

 

Erica bursts into the kitchen moments later, Allison and Lydia not far behind her, and she pounces on her Alpha when her eyes land on him. “Derek!” she yells and _leaps_ into his arms, clinging to him like a spider monkey and peppering kisses all over his face in her excitement. The older wolf, to his credit, doesn't even flinch and shifts her into a more comfortable position, his strong arms under her bum. Stiles snorts merrily behind his fist from the sidelines.

 

After she's had her fill, Erica is set down back onto her feet with Allison and Lydia flanking her, the she-wolf nuzzling right up to him. “Welcome home, Daddy-Alpha,” she says with a hand on his chest and a mischievous look in her eye.

 

Derek quirks a brow at her, getting a waggle of her own in reply, and grunts, “Naughty pup.” He boops her nose with a gentle finger.

 

Erica merely cackles and steps back to let Allison lean up and kiss the Alpha's jaw, welcoming him home with a sweet smile. Derek softly kisses her forehead and thanks her before turning to the prim redhead on his other side. Lydia steps up and offers him her cheek as he leans down, carefully pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. Unlike Stiles who revels in being marked, Lydia doesn't tolerate beard burn.

 

After the girls move on further to the dining room, in come Boyd and Danny, the former clasping forearms with his Alpha and touching their foreheads together briefly while the latter cups Derek's face in his hands and kisses him hello with a dimpled smile.

 

Scott and Isaac trail in after them, glomping their Alpha happily when they see him, and he ruffles their hair before the two are off to help Jackson and Danny finish setting the table, Erica getting the glasses while Allison readies the juice and milk, and Lydia helps herself to some of the coffee already brewed and ready to be consumed. Boyd is prepping a couple frying pans next to Stiles for eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns.

 

When the older members of the pack amble in, Peter greets his nephew with his signature smarmy smirk and a cheek rub full of...well, cheek - while John smiles warmly and gives him a hearty hug welcome back as well as a lip smack to the temple, Chris giving a nod and shooting him a small grin before clapping him on the shoulder.

 

Derek accepts it all with grace and Stiles couldn't help smiling as he flips another pancake and ladles in another waffle. He loves his pack. Even creeper Peter (but don't tell him that).

 

Today is gonna be a good day.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

That evening everyone has plans to celebrate the holiday. Scott, Allison, Lydia and Isaac are going to the movies while Boyd and Erica are off to the bowling alley. Jackson and Danny head to Jungle for some much needed bro-time, and to hang out with the ladies if they happen to be there tonight.

 

The Sheriff, Chris and Peter stay in for the evening, opting to watch movies that were popular during the 80's in the living room and reminisce on good times past while splitting a huge bowl of popcorn that Stiles had approved of.

 

This leaves Stiles to get ready for his date with Derek.

 

Fresh from his recent shower and towel drying his hair in a robe, he pads around his personal room - a boudoir that serves as another bedroom, as well as a study and a place where he keeps odds and ends like Scarlet's things, one of which is a large antique vanity table he'd gotten for a steal at the flea market – towards his spacious walk-in closet and heads to the back where he keeps his delicate under-things.

 

After carefully making his lingerie selections for the night, Stiles ditches his robe and sets about putting them on, shimmying into a pair of soft pink panties trimmed in white lace and carefully rolling on the sheer ivory stockings up his shaved legs. A matching garter belt soon sits nice and snug at his waist and he clips the stockings in place.

 

Wiggling his sheathed toes against the soft plush carpet, Stiles hums as he goes about picking out the rest of his outfit and laying it all on the end of the bed when he's satisfied, slipping into a pair of comfy silver pumps before he takes a seat at his vanity and ponders his make-up choices.

 

Hm, should he go smoky or earthy hues for his eyes? Lips? Bright colors were out in this case, that's for sure. In the end he decides to go with a light and natural look, and gets to work on powdering his face, because of course 'light and natural' requires just as much time and effort as any other look.

 

He grumbles internally at this universal travesty.

 

Minutes later, just as he's finished sweeping his eyelashes with the mascara brush one last time, he finally notices Derek's dark form through the mirror when he's done, the Alpha leaning against his door frame with his beefy arms crossed over his equally beefy chest, freshly shaven and dressed in a white half done-up oxford that Stiles suspects is the same exact one Jackson was wearing last night, tucked in a pair of charcoal gray dress pants perfectly pressed and hugging him in all the right, uh, assets.

 

Amber eyes smolder. Mm, yummy.

 

“Hey there, handsome,” he grins, winks lasciviously, and caps his mascara as his mate pushes off the door and slowly slinks his way over to him.

 

He's just about to reach for a lipstick when Derek is suddenly there behind him, closing his fingers over Stiles' wrist in a loose hold to stop his movements as the other hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

 

Derek presses his face into the crook of Stiles' neck and inhales deeply, taking in the sweet, heady combination of his mate's natural scent and the perfume he has on – one that doesn't offend his sensitive werewolf olfactory nerves (specifically purchased for that reason) – as well as the scent of warm leather from his collar, smirking when he gets a delicious little shiver.

 

“Mm, Der,” Stiles begins softly, “I need to finish getting ready.” Despite his words though, Stiles is tipping his head to the side for more and Derek obliges, kissing up and down his neck with warm, loving lips.

 

“In a minute,” Derek murmurs back and nibbles on his ear, trailing his hands up and presses his thumbs in, massaging Stiles' neck and shoulders, and rubbing out any knots he happens to come across.

 

In front of him, Stiles groans and sighs in relief as his muscles give way under Derek's gentle insistence, leaning back into his Alpha's chest and turning his face to nuzzle his cheek.

 

“Hmm, I like it when you shave,” he says absently and lifts a hand to run the back of it across smooth skin, rubbing their cheeks together and knowing he's getting a raised eyebrow even without looking through the mirror.

 

“Should I do it more often?” Derek asks back, and Stiles shakes his head a little.

 

“Maybe once in a while? I like your scruff and beard, too.”

 

He could feel Derek smiling. “Okay,” the wolf agrees softly and presses his lips to his forehead.

 

Derek's hands in the meantime travel south, finger tips circling around his nipples, making Stiles shudder against him.

 

“Seriously though, I need to finish getting ready or we'll be late.”

 

Derek hums in acknowledgment, but his hands aren't listening, trailing even lower until one of them reaches down and cups him through his panties.

 

Stiles mewls, legs automatically parting for his mate, and bucks up into the touch involuntarily before whining out, “Der- _ekkk._ Stop it. Don't tease me.” He pouts.

 

Derek huffs in amusement and nips at his neck, then pulls away entirely. Stiles swallows back a noise of protest at this before the Alpha is stepping to his side and offering him his hands. “Stand up for me? Wanna see you.”

 

The brunet bites his lip softly, smiling when he hears Derek growl from his chest, and takes hold of the hands in front of him. He's helped up onto his heels and led away from the vanity, hips swaying as he does, before Derek lets him go and twirls a finger in front of him.

 

Stiles crosses his ankles and slowly turns around on the balls of his feet in a full 360 as bid, hands out by his sides and wrist turned up daintily as he shows off for his mate. “Well? What do you think?” he asks when he's facing him again, voice a little higher, a little breathier; more feminine. He flutters his darkened eyelashes coyly.

 

Derek doesn't answer in words. Instead, he rumbles deep like a thunderstorm, gorgeous hazel eyes bleeding into brilliant Alpha red as they rake up and down his body. Slowly, he starts to saunter around Stiles, a predator stalking his prey, before stopping back in front of him and slipping into his personal bubble.

 

Stiles holds himself still and closes his eyes as the Alpha gingerly scents him, tilting his head into it as the tip of Derek's nose barely grazes the planes of his face, warm minty breath puffing against his cheek. The heat of his mate so near is intoxicating and he finds himself swaying towards it until they're neatly pressed together, limbs entangled.

 

He purrs and parts his lips for a kiss, something Derek is more that happy to give him. Long dexterous fingers bury themselves into his mate's thick dark hair as big, warm hands stroke and wander down the bare skin of his back. Derek toys with the hem of his panties and he moans, arching into him when those hands grab handfuls of his ass and squeeze roughly.

 

A squeak is startled out of him when he's suddenly hauled and lifted up into Derek's arms, his ankles crossing automatically over the small of Derek's back as he clings to his mate's neck.

 

Derek lays him out on the bed, pressing him into the mattress with the power of one single passionate kiss, distracting him from noticing how the Alpha's hands trail down dangerously low until Derek cups the half chub trapped in its silken prison with one palm, the other holding his hip.

 

Stiles breaks their kiss with a gasp. “N-...n-no...don't. _Derek,_ ” he whines, moaning helplessly when his mate doesn't listen and moves on to gently maul the space between his collar and his jaw, his hand continuing to grope and molest him until he's fully hard, clever, wicked finger tips rubbing at his taint through his panties. Stiles clutches his shoulders, not being able to do much else but tilt his head to the side and submit. “Our reservations...”

 

“We'll just have to make this quick then,” Derek lifts his head and smirks at him, leaning in for a dirty little kiss before getting to work.

 

Stiles watches him through lidded eyes as he kisses his way down his chest and stomach, pausing to play with his nipples briefly which makes him squirm, before unclipping his garters and hooking his fingers into his panties to tug them down his legs until they dangle uselessly on one of his ankles. That's all Derek needs to do really, before the Alpha is on his knees and pulls Stiles to the edge of the bed for easier access, throwing his legs over his broad shoulders.

 

“ _Nnyuh~!_ ” Stiles cries out, toes curling in his heels and fingers clenching the sheets above his head when Derek burrows his face into his ass and starts to lick him out with gusto, like a starved animal. “U-unh, Daddy...”

 

Derek groans and digs his tongue right in, wiggling it just right until he's in as deep as he can go. He licks and sucks and fucks Stiles until he cries, pulling away slightly to drag his tongue up his wet, twitching cock before swallowing it down whole. His eyelashes flutter. “Mmm...”

 

“A-ah! Ahn!” Stiles' mouth drops open and his chest arches up sharply, the boy trembling there before chewing on his lip as tears prick his eyes. “Daddy! _Mmn,_ Daddy...”

 

“Always tastes so good, baby.”

 

“Please,” he mewls and chokes on a moan as Derek starts to suck him in earnest. His whole body flinches when a dry fingertip skims over the rim of his hole, the digit coming back lubed after he hears Derek blindly rummage around the nightstand nearby.

 

The finger slowly circles his entrance before making its way inside him, then one becomes two, and minutes later two becomes three. It isn't long until Stiles is riding those fingers urgently, soft breathy sounds falling from his mouth unbidden.

 

“Make that pretty pussy clench for me, baby girl.” Stiles whimpers but does as he's told.

 

“Want to cum...want to cummm~” he moans out, little pink tongue peeking out of his mouth to lick at his lips seductively. Derek growls and hits his prostate in response, stays there and massages it firmly. “ _Nnn!_ ”

 

“Fuck,” the Alpha swears roughly, twisting his wrist and curling his fingers, watching them drive Stiles mad with want.

 

“Breed my pussy, Daddy,” he begs, hands clutching at his own hair. “Please! Put your knot in me.”

 

“Later,” Derek promises soothingly, glancing at the clock as he kisses his inner thigh, “For now, I want you to cum, baby. Can you do that for me?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Good girl.” Stiles cries as Derek takes him back into his mouth, couldn't stop the noises pouring forth from his lips and gushes down Derek's throat moments later, his vision whiting out as the Alpha swallows again and again, his hand still busy finger-fucking the boy's wet hole until Stiles whines from over-sensitivity.

 

Gradually, Stiles comes back into himself when he feels gentle kisses rain down all over his face - his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his forehead – and blindly searches for those lips with his own. A small happy noise escapes him when Derek chuckles and kisses him properly, little butterflies kisses to his mouth all in a row.

 

When Derek pulls back, Stiles notices his panties are pulled back up and his garters are clipped in place again. Then he notices the large bulge in Derek's pants.

 

“You didn't cum,” he says, concerned as he reaches out a hand, “Can I?”

 

Derek's eyes are soft as his lips quirk up. “Of course. If you'd like.”

 

Stiles nods enthusiastically at that. “Yes, please,” he says and slides off the bed to sink to his knees, shivering slightly at how slick he still feels inside and the saliva he feels drying before making grabby hands at his mate until Derek steps in between his spread thighs.

 

Stiles nuzzles his face into Derek's groin with a purring sigh, mouthing at the bulge before unzipping Derek's pants with his teeth. Quick, agile fingers undo Derek's leather belt and the button of his pants before pulling them down, as well as his boxer briefs, just enough for Stiles to get at his hardened cock.

 

The boy moans and licks at the tip of his length all kitten-like before opening his mouth wide and taking him in whole. Derek lets his head fall back with a groan, knowing he's not gonna last as his fingers card through his mate's hair, before both his hands come up to hold Stiles' head still. He pulls out and pushes back into that reddened mouth experimentally, seeing if his boy could take it like this.

 

Stiles whines high from the back of his throat, swallowing and licking around him eagerly as best he can, and he takes that as he's cue to do as he pleases.

 

Without preamble, he starts to thrust with abandon, fucks Stiles' face roughly in search of his own release.

 

Below him Stiles remains pliant for him to use, having been trained well by his Alpha mate, one hand resting on Derek's waist as the other gently massages his sac until the wolf cums with a snarl, shooting his load down his throat. He hold Stiles there to his groin until the boy greedily gobbles it all up before slowly pulling out all the way.

 

Stiles licks at his swollen lips - feeling dirty and naughty and used - then bathes Derek with his tongue, making sure he's clean of cum before tucking him back into his underwear and pulling up his pants, dressing him back up like he was before his horny mate decided to ambush him with a quickie.

 

After buckling up his belt, Stiles is pulled up onto wobbly feet to rest against his mate's chest in his arms, the two nuzzling and kissing each other until he gets his legs back.

 

“Hm, I think I like this color on you best,” says Derek as he thumbs his plush, red lower lip.

 

Stiles bites at him playfully, “Of course you do. You put it there.”

 

“Gonna have to renew it often.”

 

Stiles' eyes lower heatedly. “Guess so.”

 

“Love you,” Derek murmurs to him, nosing at his face. “Love you so much.”

 

“I love you, too, sappy wolf,” he giggles, tracing the lines of the wolf's handsome face with a fingertip, and gives his mate a dazzling smile, “More than you'll ever know.”

 

“Doubt it,” Derek hums, “Love you more.”

 

“Oh, stop,” he laughs, delighted, “You're ridiculous.”

 

Derek shrugs, “Even so. I still love you more.”

 

“Whatever,” Stiles pecks him on the nose, “We'll just see about that later tonight.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“Speaking of, I guess these will have to wait until then,” Stiles pouts, looking down at his heels, “Scarlet wanted to go out tonight.”

 

“Sorry,” Derek says, not sounding apologetic at all.

 

“Liar,” Stiles accuses, but kisses him again anyway.

 

“I'll make it up to you later,” Derek smirks and guides him to sit on the bed. The wolf gathers up the clothes he was going to wear to dinner from the end of the bed and walks to the closet to put them back in their proper places before making his own selections.

 

He comes back with a pair of dove gray slacks, a matching vest, and a white button up over his arm. Hanging from his fingers is a pale pink bow-tie and matching necktie, as well as a belt.

 

Stiles tilts his head curiously but obliges his mate as Derek goes about dressing him. First is the button-up, then comes the slacks after the wolf regrettably pulls off his heels from his feet. He pulls him up to stand so they can be done up with the belt.

 

Stiles flushes, that naughty feeling coming up again when he realizes he's going out in public wearing his lingerie under his clothes. He wiggles excitedly until Derek smacks his bum in fond reprimand. Then, they get to putting on his vest.

 

After making sure everything's tucked in place, zipped and buttoned up, Derek finally brandishes the bow-tie and does it up expertly, straightening out until its symmetrical to his satisfaction. A little hint of Stiles' collar peeks out from underneath, but Derek thinks that may be for the best, at least for tonight. It will be their little secret.

 

He leads Stiles to the vanity to see for himself. “Will this do?”

 

Stiles gapes and blinks, before taking a critical eye to his outfit. “Hm. I suppose,” he says loftily after a moment, and laughs when Derek pinches his butt. “Kidding, kidding. I look stunning. Thank you, Daddy,” he purrs and leans in for a kiss. Derek rumbles. Unfortunately, they have to keep it short since they really do need to head out soon.

 

The Alpha takes the remaining pink necktie for himself as Stiles tidies up the little smudges under his eyes from his mascara, making sure everything else still looks all right (yey for versatile make-up!) before swapping out his heels for a pair of loafers. He grabs a comb and some hair gel from the adjoining bathroom to style his hair right quick, then the two of them head to their master bedroom so Derek can grab his own shoes and his suit jacket. After that, they are off the restaurant at last.

 

They say their goodbyes to the pack's elders on the way out, choosing to ignore Peter's knowing smile as John and Chris wish them a good night.

 

Stiles couldn't wait to get theirs started, but first, food.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dinner is fabulous. They're at their regular table in a cozy little corner near the back; the lights are dim, the atmosphere is romantic, the food's delicious...now if only Stiles could figure out exactly why their waiter has been glaring daggers at Derek all night, he'll be just peachy keen.

 

After being interrupted from yet another intimate moment in favor of their entrees, Stiles has had enough.

 

“Der,” he says sweetly after their sullen waiter has stomped off, “Have you done anything in particular to make Antonio cockblock us at every turn when I wasn't looking?”

 

Derek immediately huffs, affronted, and lowered his eyebrows. “ _No._ Of course not.” A second later, one cocks back up as he looks at his mate, “Have you?”

 

“Of course not!” Stiles sputters, flailing slightly in his seat, “but if we haven't done anything, then why does he keep giving us these looks?” He imitates said look before his expression reverts back to being adorably confused.

 

Derek couldn't help but smile fondly at his mate, laying out a hand palm up on the table and crooking his fingers lightly. Stiles reaches out his own hand in curious response to the invitation and the wolf lovingly curls their fingers together. He brings Stiles' knuckles up to his lips for a kiss, his thumb rubbing soothing circles across them. Stiles bites his lip in a poor attempt to stifle his smile.

 

“Honestly, I don't know why Tony's acting the way he is, nor do I really care,” says Derek, kaleidoscope eyes dazzling in the candle light, “because I'm not here for him. I'm here for you.”

 

Now that's just unfair. Stiles breaths out a dreamy sigh, eyelashes fluttering, and just melts into the mushy-gushy pile of romantic sap that he totally is. He's certainly one lucky bitch indeed, as Crystal would say.

 

Derek's lips quirk up indulgently at the corners, “Let's just focus on us tonight, all right, baby?”

 

The smile beneath his lashes is both affectionate and coy. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Antonio considers himself a good, reasonable man. He enjoys his job, enjoys the food, the other employees working here, and especially their customers.

 

On that note, when he saw one of his favorite regulars come in on this busy night without the other, he was flummoxed for a moment before he registered the young, distinctly male individual by his side.

 

Feeling gobsmacked, he hides it on the inside with a strained smile as he leads Derek and his companion to their table. Maybe it's just a friendly dinner between – what is it the kids call it these days – ah! Bros. Yes that was it. Just a dinner between bros. Not the ridiculous notion he'd immediately thought of when he hadn't seen Derek's girlfriend with him on this Valentine's night.

 

That theory goes out the window though when he spies the two of them leaning close to each other, smiling privately to one another as Derek strokes the young man's hand with his own after ordering their food.

 

As far as he knows, 'bros' don't do that here in this country. And they certainly don't share kisses between them.

 

Tony is both in shock and enraged.

 

That...that two-timing cad! How could he do this to poor Miss Scarlet?!

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

In reminisce of their first date, they'd ordered a large plate of spaghetti to share, along with soft garlic bread sticks and crunchy Caesar salad.

 

Stiles is happily stuffing his face, munching away without a care in the world and making pleased sounds with every bite.

 

He pauses when he sees his mate stare at him in amusement from across the table. “Wha'?”

 

Derek laughs and shakes his head. It's a nice laugh, one Stiles always wants to hear.

 

“Chew with your mouth closed, dear,” Derek gently chides, and Stiles sticks his tongue out childishly. Thankfully he'd swallowed his mouthful already.

 

Derek sighs, but smiles again anyway before taking another bite. Stiles grins cheekily, victorious, and does the same.

 

As they eat, a single strand of spaghetti starts to levitate from the rest. Brown eyes met hazel and the pair smirk at each other, before their faces start to draw closer and closer as the noodle gets shorter and shorter.

 

Just as they're inches from each other's lips, a pair of kitchen scissors appear out of nowhere and rudely cuts their connection in half, startling the two apart.

 

“Wha' da hell?!”

 

Derek scowls at the offender, “What is going on here?”

 

“I should-a be asking you that,” Antonio retorts, visibly becoming more upset as he stands there, hands on his hips.

 

Stiles' confused gaze just darts from one and then the other as he finishes slurping up his end of the noodle.

 

“ _What._ ” Oh no. Derek is growling now, and he's losing his punctuation again. Are his eyes flashing? Crap.

 

Stiles hurriedly wipes his mouth with a napkin, “Uh...Tony? What's the matter? Is something wrong?”

 

“Is-ah something wrong?” Tony starts, his Italian accent thickening the more he gets riled up, “Is-ah something wrong?! I shall tell-a you wassa wrong, young man. That-a _heathen_ ,” he points to Derek and his offended eyebrows, “is-ah cheating on not only you, but someone who has-ah grown dear to my heart. How-ah could you?!” He rounds on Derek.

 

Meanwhile, Derek's eyebrows go from offended to dawning realization. The couple share a look of comprehension across the table as Tony continues his tirade, before Stiles decides to step in.

 

“Uh, Tony–”

 

“ _Signorina_ Scarlet is a lovely young woman, you are-ah lucky to have her–”

 

“Tony.”

 

“-and you go and-ah do this? _Wassa-matta-wit-chu_ , eh?!”

 

“TONY!” Stiles flails his arms around dramatically and finally obtains their waiter's attention before clearing his throat and placing his hands on his lap, sitting up properly in his seat. “It's me. Scarlet,” he says then, voice softer and delicate as he looks at the stocky man with big Bambi eyes.

 

Tony opens his mouth to start and say something, finger raised in the air, before the sound dies in his throat when it looks like he's registered what just happened. He stares at Stiles wide-eyed, before stating a faint, “ _Mamma mia._ ”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After apologizing profusely to the couple, a mortified Antonio insists that their dinner is on the house and refuses any and all tips once they've finished eating dessert before going into the kitchen to hide due to his “most shameful behavior unsuited for restaurant hospitality and their previous camaraderie,” as he says.

 

They leave him a generous tip anyway, tucked away under a dirty plate, and when called on it, Derek simply shrugs and says, “He's willing to defend for you, even against me. That deserves something.”

 

Stiles grins and gives him a kiss. They leave the restaurant, hands clasped together after asking the maitre d' to tell Tony they'll see him again in two weeks, same table.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They get home, still chuckling over what happened at dinner, and hurry up to the front door, eager to finish where they left off earlier.

 

Those plans go out the window, though, when they go to pass the living room and see the Sheriff sitting there on the couch by himself, his head in his hands. A certain hunter and a wolf are noticeably absent.

 

Derek takes a sniff around and frowns. It smells of confusion, hurt, and anger. Betrayal.

 

“Dad?” Stiles calls out worriedly.

 

John looks up at them with watery eyes. In a hoarse voice, he says, “Peter's gone, and Chris has gone after him. We didn't think he'd storm off like that.”

 

On the table in front of him lay a box with two golden wedding bands in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUNNNN. And the plot continues after all!


	13. Folly

Stiles hurries over and hugs his dad tightly. “Dad. What happened?”

 

Derek hovers nearby, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 

In a halting voice, John proceeds to tell them both about how he and Chris had proposed to each other in front of Peter, thinking he'd be delighted for them. 

 

Instead, all Peter had done was laugh sardonically and say, “What am I, chopped liver?”

 

They'd been confused; since Peter got to claim them both the way of the wolf, and they him, why couldn't they claim each other in the old traditional human way? Chris had said as much.

 

It turns out that while Chris and John could legally marry now in the state of California, in the eyes of the government, Peter Hale was very much legally dead. So while John and Chris could go out and about as a happily married couple in public, Peter could not do the same with either of them, for humans will never know about the hidden bite marks just under the men's shirt collars and wouldn't understand the meaning behind them even if they just so happen to see them; and while gay marriage is on the rise, in the eyes of society, things likes triads and multi-partner relationships were still taboo. Peter had said as much.

 

Things escalated from there between the two, the hunter and the wolf facing off on opposite sides once more, and John hadn't known what to do. He'd stood off to the side, paralyzed with growing helplessness as his lovers started going at it, screaming at each other with cutting words like 'selfish' and 'thoughtless' thrown around from both sides, the two dredging up their past that John hadn't been apart of and throwing it in each other's faces until Chris opened his mouth again and called Peter a 'greedy, manipulative, loveless beast,' something Gerard had once labeled him as. 

 

“I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to be your mate this time around. I wish I could take it back. You've haven't changed at all,” Chris had spat out.

 

Peter had reeled back as if physically struck, any witty snappy retort he might have had dying on his tongue as trembling lips pressed firmly against each other in a tight line. Wet wolf blue eyes flashed with an unfathomable amount of hurt and betrayal and looked to John briefly before Peter pivoted on his heel and ran out of the house. 

 

It took all of three seconds before Chris realized what he'd just done. He swore violently and took off after their wolf, sending John a look of panicked fear, regret and worry over his shoulder that had probably matched the Sheriff's own face just before he disappeared out the door, leaving John standing there alone in the living room. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The mood is sobering when the rest of the pack comes trickling into the house, something the pups can feel immediately.

 

Derek explains what had transpired during their absence, and afterward Stiles starts to lead his heartbroken father up to bed, but not before the pups all hug and cuddle into the older man, all of them hoping that Peter comes home soon.

 

The Sheriff smiles but it doesn't reach his sad eyes, petting them each on the head before Stiles gently tugs him up the stairs.

 

They watch the Stilinskis slowly make their way up and Isaac whimpers, curling around Jackson as the omega wraps an arm around his waist and Danny rubs his back; he doesn't like it when there's a feud within the pack, being the most emotionally sensitive one. Boyd is holding an upset but quiet Erica to his chest; Scott is speechless, and Lydia is hugging her best friend who is hurting for her father and his lovers.

 

It isn't until hours later Chris that comes back home, distraught and frustrated with himself, and the pups all jump up and hurry over to hug and cuddle him too, before Derek clasps a hand on his shoulder in comfort and also sends him to bed, stating that John probably needs him right now.

 

“He'll come back. He just needs time,” the Alpha says, calm hazel eyes looking into tired, guilty blue.

Chris just nods and lets his daughter help him up to his room.

 

A little while passes before both Stiles and Allison come back downstairs, satisfied to know that their parents are home safe and sound, but concerned for them all the same. 

 

Derek pulls them into his arms and the rest of the pack quickly surrounds them, exuding safety and comfort through their pack bond as multiple arms come around to hold them all together.

 

“Puppy pile tonight?” Stiles asks, voice small.

 

“Puppy pile tonight,” Derek confirms and ushers them all to get changed into something comfy and meet on the cushion. 

 

In no time they all settle down in a tangle of bodies and limbs, but no one really sleeps, not when one of their own is out there all by himself, capable werewolf or not.

 

In the distance, a long mournful howl rings loud and clear through the stillness of the night and Derek's eyes flash red as the pups whimper and Stiles snuggles closer to him, one hand fisted in the soft fabric of Derek's shirt above his heart.

 

Some Valentine's Day.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Days drag on and there's still no sign of Peter. 

 

The pack's been taking up patrolling the preserve in hopes of finding him and bringing him home, but no dice. 

 

Puppy piles have been mandatory since the first night the older beta went missing, but no one's complaining. With one pack member gone, the pups have been wanting close contact with one another and everyone else ever since, more so than usual. Stiles couldn't go anywhere without at least one other person within touching distance.

 

After the first week, a thought enters his father's head.

 

“Maybe he hasn't come home because we're here?” the Sheriff says out loud one Saturday night, and everyone pauses what they're doing.

 

Chris looks up from pouring over his maps of the preserve, and mulls it over for a moment before sighing. “It would make sense,” he agrees reluctantly, “he wouldn't want to come back to what he considers his den if he feels that the, uh, 'threat' is still around.” He coughs a bit and clears his throat, and Stiles doesn't need any werewolf senses to pick up on the fact that Chris still thinks that he is at fault for all of this.

 

John's shoulders slump down a little, before they straighten up again and he nods decisively. “Back to casa de Stilinski it is then.”

 

“Dad, do you think that's really necessary?” Stiles asks, sitting up from his place next to Derek, the Alpha's arm a soothing anchor around his back.

 

John nods again, “If there's a chance that Peter will come home, it's one we're gonna have to take, even if we're not here for when he returns. We gotta do this on his terms.” He shares a look with Chris. “It's the least we can do, after all.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“I don't like this,” says Stiles as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching the cruiser pull out of the driveway from the window. Derek comes up behind him and embraces him around his middle, kissing his neck before resting his chin on his shoulder. Stiles couldn't help but wriggle back into him, wanting comfort.

 

“I know you don't. I don't either, but Peter will come home when he's ready.”

 

Stiles turns in his mate's arms and buries his face into Derek's neck to hide his pout. “Just sucks, is all.”

 

“I know,” the wolf croons, running a big warm hand up and down his back. 

 

The sudden sound of the doorbell ringing breaks them apart, and they share a look before Derek goes to answer the door. 

 

Stiles hears the door swing open, and then, “Uncle?!”

 

At that he rushes after Derek, skidding to a halt in the foyer as he hears the pups come running up behind him, just in time to see a thin, battered Peter smirk weakly and answer, “Nephew,” before collapsing into Derek's arms.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Peter regains consciousness he's been cleaned up, his wounds having been bandaged, and finds himself tucked under 200+ pounds of overprotective fangs and fur in the living room on the puppy pile cushion.

 

Derek lifts his giant head from where he was resting to look down his muzzle at him, Alpha red eyes boring into cold beta blue. The stare down ends when Derek whines and laps at his face with a long pink tongue, making him sputter.

 

“Oh, for the love of - no, stop it. Cut that out,” he grumbles and pushes at Derek's snout weakly before giving up and sighing, resigned to being licked and scent marked by his Alpha nephew when Derek wouldn't let up.

 

“He was really worried about you, ya know,” a voice speaks from a short distance, before he sees Stiles' face hover over them upside-down. “We all were.” As if on cue, the pups all stick their heads out from the kitchen before spilling out into the living room, heading straight for him.

 

They all find their preferred spots; Isaac and Jackson right up against Peter's body under their Alpha, followed by Erica and Boyd, then Danny and Scott, then Allison, and then finally Lydia, who likes to perch above them near their heads.

 

“And really, your timing was incredible,” Stiles goes on, “Right when they left. Really?”

 

Surrounded by his pack, Peter mutters something unintelligible before burrowing his face into Derek's broad furry chest, ignoring the two blonds clinging to him for the time being. 

 

The Alpha whines again from above and snuffles at him anxiously. He wasn't done scent marking yet!

 

Derek turn accusing red eyes at his mate for this turn of events and huffs. 

 

It's Stiles' turn to sigh. He scratches the back of his neck, making apologetic puppy eyes at his wolf until the Alpha finally relents and leans up to lick his face, too. He indulges in some ear scritches before getting back to the matter at hand. 

 

He switches gears. “Peter. C'mon now, don't be like that. I made your favorite~” He lifts up the hot plate of food he'd been holding, and wiggles it a little in his hands in hopes of enticing Peter out from under Derek's bulk. 

 

A blue eye peeks out from its soft hiding place. “...Fillet mignon?” Peter asks suspiciously after a moment. 

 

“Uh huh. Medium-rare with steamed asparagus drizzled in melted butter and fluffy mashed potatoes on the side with chives. Just the way you like it~” Stiles waggles his eyebrows.

 

A second later and Peter's empty stomach lets out an impressive gurgle, making him grunt in annoyance at being played so easily _and_ betrayed by his own body, before he's struggling to sit up.

 

Derek helpfully manhandles him until he's leaning back against his nephew like the Alpha's some huge furry recliner, the pups all re-orienting themselves to accommodate the change.

 

When they've settled, Stiles hands over the plate before leaving briefly to fetch napkins and utensils, as well as a portable, fold-able table to properly eat on and something for Peter to drink. 

 

“...Thank you,” Peter says reluctantly before taking the first bite. He hadn't realized how hungry he is until just then, and digs into the rest of his meal with relish, savoring the flavors.

 

After he's finished eating, the pups all pile onto him and Peter again resigns himself to being cuddled to death, petting their hair to ease their whimpers and letting them scent him as well.

 

“Missed you,” Isaac mumbles quietly into his shoulder. Jackson hums in agreement, snuggling into his bicep.

 

“You smelt like magic when you came home,” Scott pipes up on his chest, big brown eyes still filled with worry.

 

“What happened?” asks Lydia, aiming for nonchalant and missing by an inch as she runs her fingers through his hair, her nails gently massaging his scalp. 

 

Peter frowns, thinking. “I...don't remember.”

 

“You don't remember?” Stiles repeats, his voice not patronizing or sarcastic, but curious.

 

“All I can recall is running out of the house and living off the land for a while. The rest is a blank, before I remember pain and running home to find pack and Alpha because I felt like I was being hunted.”

 

“Hunted?” Allison echos nervously.

 

“Shit, just when you think the coast is clear...” Stiles curses before he takes a breath. “Well, we'll worry about that when the time comes. For now, we'll just worry about you.” He points a finger at Peter menacingly then, the other resting on his hip, “You, mister, are on pack watch until further notice.”

 

Ignoring Peter's sputtered protests which were quickly stifled by whimpering pups being clingy, he turns to go to his study.

 

He has some phone calls to make and some researching to do. 

 

(But not before he doubles back to reassure his mate with kisses and more ear scritches when Derek makes a low noise after him, the Alpha not understanding why his mate wasn't in the pile with the rest of their pack where he's supposed to be.)

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Peter spends the next few days just sitting in the living room, staring listlessly off into the distance as his mind wanders without a goal. 

 

He refuses to go into his room for anything, every single thing within the space carrying the scent of John and Chris and them, and just the thought of them hurts too much, let alone their scent, so he sends one of the pups up there if he ever needs anything inside.

 

According to his pack, Peter is acting much too un-Peter-like. No smarmy smirks, no snark, no nothing. They don't seem to like it much, which vaguely surprises Peter since he had thought he wasn't really anyone's favorite.

 

Speaking of, Stiles keeps making him his favorite foods during meals in order to try and make him feel better, from duck confit to peanut butter banana fritters to black forest cake. It works, if only for a short while.

 

Having had enough of his moping (as they call it – he wasn't moping, he wasn't), today the girls have taken it upon themselves to groom and pamper him a little since he hasn't felt like doing it himself, letting his usually impeccable appearance grow unkempt during his impromptu commune with nature. 

 

Sitting him down in the bathroom, Erica hunkers down and gives him a man's version of a mani-pedi while Allison is busy carefully shaving his face with a steady hand, leaving Lydia to take care of his hair.

 

She gives him a haircut and styles it to suit her whims, her movements sharp and precise, and peers into the mirror to look at him when they all finish up. “Well?”

 

Peter lifts a corner of his mouth at his reflection, though the smile doesn't reach his eyes, “Thank you.”

 

“You're welcome.” 

 

They each give him a kiss on the cheek then usher him out of the bathroom to the boys, who each try a hand at distracting him from thinking too deeply for the remainder of the day, before they all tumble back onto the cushion for their nightly puppy pile after another lovely dinner made by Stiles.

 

Peter sighs and hugs Danny closer to his chest, the goalie more than happy to play the part of his overgrown living teddy bear for the night if the nuzzle to the collarbone and squeeze around his middle is anything to go by.

 

He buries his face in the pup's black hair and closes his eyes, listening to the heartbeats of his pack and letting their steady rhythm ease his mind into the blankness of sleep.

 

The older wolf is going to take in the comfort he's being given now, because he has a niggling feeling tomorrow he's going to need all the rest and relaxation he can get.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next day when Peter wakes up, his teddy bear had turned blond while he was sleeping. Jackson blinks up at him sleepily before biting him lightly on the chin and burrowing deeper into his embrace to doze some more.

 

It forces a chuckle out of him and he presses his lips to the pup's forehead, closing his eyes as well to just soak in the peaceful moment. 

 

He slips in and out of sleep after that, one moment he's simply cuddling a pretty omega, the next, Isaac had come and draped himself over his back while Lydia appeared by his head to play with his shorter hair when he resurfaces again.

 

Looking back on it, he's going to cite Lydia's tantalizing head massage as the source of his distraction in that moment, because he didn't hear a familiar car pull up into the driveway nor Stiles opening the front door.

 

“Peter? Honey?” John's soft voice calls to him from behind and everything in Peter freezes.

 

He closes his eyes, hardly daring to breathe.


	14. Persian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris has some making up to do.

The pups all turn to look at their unexpected guests from their various places, Jackson having to peek over Peter's stiff shoulder.

 

One by one they all file out of the room as if on cue, giving the Sheriff and Chris tentative smiles as they head up the stairs. The two on the cushion slowly disentangle themselves from the older beta, Jackson and Isaac both giving Peter one last nuzzle and squeeze before they followed the others.

 

Lydia pets his hair one last time and starts to pull away, but before she could completely, Peter's hand shoots out and catches her wrist.

 

Whatever she sees on his face makes her own soften in sympathy, and she leans down to press a kiss to his temple. She slips away from his grasp soon after and makes herself scarce as well.

 

Off to the side, Stiles coughs. “Well! We'll, uh, we'll...be in the kitchen,” he mutters, and ushers a conflicted Derek, who is torn between giving them space and hovering protectively, into said room for a false sense of privacy.

 

Then, it's quiet.

 

No one moves for several beats, but then Peter hears steady footsteps approach him on the cushion.

 

He doesn't move and closes his eyes, feeling the cushion dip. The seconds tick past until he hears a throat clear and John's voice whisper, “Peter?”

 

Reluctantly, Peter's eyes flutter open again. Sad, wary azure lock on to faded yet hopeful blue.

 

John's laid down in front of him, waiting him out patiently with a hand stretched out just a short distance from his own that was laying limp before his face.

 

Slowly, the Sheriff inches it closer until he's just about to touch Peter's upturned pinky. A heartbeat later and Peter curls the digit over John's index finger in response.

 

John takes a deep shuddering breath and clasps their hands together, bringing them to his lips and kissing Peter's fingers and the back of his hand, one after another. He scoots himself closer until he can press their foreheads together, whispering apologies over and over.

 

There's a second dip behind Peter and the wolf tenses up again, having temporarily forgotten his other visitor. He hadn't heard the hunter's nearly silent footsteps, all his senses distracted by John's presence. Chris settles onto the cushion behind him, further than John had, and Peter waits once more. Long minutes pass, and the other man doesn't move a muscle until Peter's unclench themselves, one by one.

 

It's only then that Chris dares to inch up closer, until he can reach out and tentatively lay an arm around Peter's middle.

 

“I'm sorry,” Chris rasps into his ear, gruff voice cracking, “I'm so sorry. My mate.”

 

At that, Peter's defenses finally crack. A low, distressed whine perpetuates from his throat as he curls into himself and shakes apart. He'd thought he'd never hear that particular moniker ever again.

 

John and Chris don't hesitate this time. They quickly gather and surround their lost mate in their arms, together pressing up tight against his body, anchoring him and offering all the comfort they can to soothe him, all the while murmuring apologies and sweet nothings until Peter, after all the emotional upheaval he could possibly stand this afternoon, drops off in exhaustion.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Of course, things aren't immediately back to normal after that.

 

Peter has already forgiven John for his passive inactivity, knowing and understanding how shock had paralyzed the Sheriff during his and Chris' intensely heated argument, how he had wanted to help, but felt like an outsider looking in on something dark and twisted and decades old, and hadn't known what to do. Peter couldn't fault him for that. Hell, there wasn't really anything to forgive since John had no relevant part in the entire thing; he was just a bystander, really; pulled along for the roller-coaster that is his and Chris' past history.

 

Chris, on the other hand...Chris still has some work to do. Peter isn't going to let him off the hook that easily. The wolf is still skittish around him, not meeting his eyes and careful not to touch him at any time apart from their little reunion on the cushion. The two are never in the same room together alone, and Peter still refuses to sleep in their room with him and John, still preferring to sleep with the pack downstairs for the time being.

 

He had said that Peter is his mate. Well, the hunter better put his money where his mouth is because words are cheap. He's going to have to prove himself to Peter as a worthy mate fit for the Hale pack. This time around, Chris is going to have to do the courting.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile, Stiles is still busy researching, while the pack takes turns in shifts to patrol the borders every night in hopes of gaining more clues.

 

In between school and other obligations, he consults Deaton and Chris along with all their books they have on hand, as well as what was salvaged from the Hale library and Peter's personal collection on top of his own stash, and of course his old friend Google.

 

Nothing concrete comes up, but it doesn't deter Stiles. He theorizes and narrows down the culprit to be either some kind of witch or a fairy. Or maybe it's a pixie...Either way, this is a great opportunity to update their bestiary, so Stiles gets back to work, seated on the floor and leaning against the foot of the bed as he clacks away on his laptop, the rest of his research spread out all in front of him.

 

Some time later he resurfaces for air, a little frustrated. He lifts his arms up straight into the air to stretch out the kinks and groans in relief when something pops, then 'eeps' when a broad hand comes around from on top of the bed and cups his chin, tilting his head back to rest on the mattress.

 

Large Bambi eyes blink up at an upside-down Derek, who had been reading reclined against the headboard and now is laying across the bed on his belly, hovering above him. The wolf gives him a crooked smile before leaning down for a slow, sensual kiss.

 

“Mmm, did you just pull a Spiderman on me?” he murmurs after they pull apart, “Not that I'm complaining or anything.”

 

“Hm,” is all Derek says, too busy scenting his mate's face and neck to answer properly.

 

Stiles giggles, playfully batting at the wolf, then yelps when Derek nips at his ear in retaliation. “Hey!”

 

Derek huffs in amusement and nuzzles his temple. “Done yet?”

 

Stiles shakes his head, “Not quite. I feel like I'm almost on the cusp of something, but I just don't know what this thing is! It's really bothering me, not knowing what it could be, ya know? I don't have enough to go on.” Hands comes to rest on his shoulders and starts to massage them a little, making him moan in gratitude.

 

“I'm not too worried. You'll figure it out, you always do. Besides, whatever it is has been lying low for now. We haven't found anything in the preserve for weeks,” Derek pecks him on the cheek, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, at least take a break. Rest your eyes and then start again fresh tomorrow. It's getting late.”

 

“Yeah, you're probably right,” he sighs.

 

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Probably?” Stiles just grins like the little shit he is and gives him another kiss.

 

Derek coaxes him to bed with promises of more, but when the brunet crawls up onto the mattress and shimmies up Derek's body, exhaustion catches up with him. He slumps down on top of his wolf and groans, rubbing his cheek against one of Derek's firm pecs under his soft t-shirt. Luckily, they were already dressed for bed so he could just slip off into sleep whenever he wanted.

 

The Alpha just chuckles and leans over to turn off the bedside light before turning them onto their sides. He caresses his mate's back in slow, smooth strokes while Stiles does his best octopus impression and clings to Derek with his whole body.

 

Stiles sighs a little in happiness and snuggles even closer still. Peter will be okay without the two of them tonight, he thinks. All the pups are still with him, and his dad has taken to alternating between spending the night with them downstairs and sleeping in their room with Chris. He'll be all right.

 

Derek kisses his forehead then. “Go to sleep,” the Alpha murmurs, as if he could hear Stiles' mind still whirring.

 

“G'night, Der,” Stiles mumbles, humming when Derek runs a hand through his hair again.

 

“Good night, baby. Sweet dreams.”

 

And with that, Stiles is out like a light.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

In the morning, the Alpha pair awaken to the smell of breakfast. A quick glance at the clock tells them that it's still way too early to be out of bed on a Saturday.

 

Still half-asleep, the two roll out of bed (or in Stiles' case, stumble) to freshen up and brush their teeth before wandering downstairs.

 

A peek into the living room lets the two know that everyone is still asleep before they meander into the kitchen to find Chris at the stove, in the middle of making his famous French toast, along with eggs and bacon.

 

The hunter turns and gives them a tired smile. “Good morning,” he murmurs.

 

“Morning,” Stiles yawns, trying to stay quiet as he scratches his belly. Derek gives a nod hello, brain still rebooting. “What are you doing up so early?”

 

“Couldn't sleep,” says Chris, “thought I'd get a head start on breakfast.”

 

“Do you need any help?” he asks, making sure to keep his voice low so the pups could continue sleeping in the next room.

 

“If you could get the syrup and fruit out, that would be great. Coffee's in the pot.”

 

“Awesome.”

 

Derek is already shuffling off towards the pot before he could take a step, pouring out two mugs and doctoring their coffee to how they like it. Caffeine doesn't affect werewolves, but Derek likes the taste all the same, the weirdo.

 

Stiles smiles at him affectionately before digging into the fridge to hunt down a mix of different berries and bananas.

 

A little while later when they're sitting at the table waiting for Chris to start serving up, Peter appears in the entrance way, hair sleep-mussed but he's bright-eyed and alert.

 

Uh oh. Derek and Stiles look at each other over their mugs before turning to watch how this will unfold.

 

Peter cautiously slinks his way across the kitchen on silent feet and peeks over the hunter's shoulder curiously, even though he can smell exactly what Chris is making. “French toast?” he inquires, nonchalant, but the Alpha pair could see him lick his lips. Chris' French toast is something of a weakness for Peter – not that he'd ever admit it – and the man only makes it for special occasions. It looks like Chris is taking full advantage of that fact in order to win his wolf back.

 

The hunter, to his credit, doesn't even bat an eyelash at the sudden voice in his ear and calmly plates a couple pieces for Peter along with some eggs, sunny-side-up - just how Peter likes it, and four strips of bacon fried to a perfect crisp.

 

“Yes. Here you go,” he says, carefully holding out a plate with one hand for Peter to take, though he keeps his eyes on the pan, not wanting to make Peter feel defensive.

 

Blue eyes shoot up in surprise when he feels Peter's fingers gently brush against his own as the wolf takes the plate and saunters over to the table where Derek and Stiles are pretending to read the newspaper.

 

That touch had been deliberate. Chris ducks his head and hides a grin before getting back to cooking.

 

The Alpha pair share a smile, then stand up to get their own breakfast. It won't be long until the pups can no longer ignore the smell of food and descend on Chris, so it's best to get their share now.

 

Just as they predicted, the pups all come stumbling in just as Stiles sits down, rubbing at their eyes and yawning as they call out sleepy greetings and form a line behind Chris. John is the last to grab a plate, giving the chef a soft kiss hello and only getting one piece of everything fatty due to Stiles' restrictions. He gets plenty of fruit though.

 

The Sheriff grumbles under his breath at this injustice but puts up with it. At least Stiles can't take away his mug of joe.

 

After Chris sits down with his own plate, the pack dig in with relish, obvious enjoyment on their faces as they hum and continue to stuff their faces. He gets many compliments and a sense of pride fills him as he accepts them with grace, before starting to eat himself.

 

A bare foot nudges against his own and he looks up to see Peter watching him coyly from underneath his lashes.

 

The wolf gives him a slow calculated smile, and Chris returns it with one of his own.

 

He's on the right track. Game on.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

A few days later Chris comes home with dozens of jackrabbits and squirrels, various large game fowl, two huge wild hogs and one very dead coyote from an apparent impromptu hunting trip.

 

“It was a nuisance call,” he says with a shrug when questioned by Stiles about the coyote. “We could still use most of it. It was only after that I got sidetracked, and well, here we are.” He vaguely gestures to the back of the SUV.

 

Peter is mildly impressed with just the sheer numbers alone. The SUV had been stuffed full of all kinds of critters since hunting season on the bigger game had long since ended; Chris had to make due with what was still available this time of year.

 

It paid off though. Chris knew just how much game he needed to hunt, and that night, he and Stiles team up to take on the task of making an elaborate feast enough to feed the masses, and maybe have some left over. (Note: they're wasn't any the next morning. Scott woke up in the middle of the night for a snack and finished it all.)

 

Leftovers were a trivial matter though, when compared to the heated looks Peter kept shooting him throughout dinner.

 

He'd call it a win.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Peter didn't want to say it, but he's quickly and efficiently being wooed. He'd never thought he'd want to give in this easily so early in the game, but Chris knew all of his guilty pleasures and was ruthlessly exploiting each and every one of them, making playing hard to get extremely difficult when all he wanted to do was bed the man again already.

 

Gifts and trinkets and gestures started to crop up right after that phenomenal dinner Chris had provided for the pack (and didn't that make his wolf just shiver and salivate at the thoughtful, cunning resourcefulness of such a worthy mate), things his human side secretly enjoys when he thinks no one's looking; an expensive box of imported Swiss chocolate he'd been craving for the longest time, his favorite herbal tea already out on the counter next to his personal mug every morning, that luxurious cashmere sweater that matched his eyes the last time he'd gone window shopping mysteriously appearing on top of all his other ones in his drawer, folded neatly and with the price tag still attached.

 

He knows his resistance is crumbling with each passing day, and if the looks they've been sharing when they think he's not watching are anything to go by, Chris and John know it too.

 

Peter huffs. They think they're so clever teaming up against him like this. Peter's no fool. He knew John has been helping Chris scheme and come up with plans to win him over at least partially, but instead of feeling affronted, he's strangely pleased. Now if only things could progress forward with his dignity still intact...

 

He's musing on how proceed next as he busies himself with preparing another cup of tea when a line of heat suddenly appears behind him.

 

Arms are at his sides, two calloused hands resting on the granite counter in front of him, blocking him in.

 

He stills, feeling a breath by his ear, and his eyes drift close when a nose gently scents the side of his face.

 

“Ah, getting bold are you now, Chris?” he quips, but his breath hitches when Chris nuzzles that spot behind his ear that simply makes him melt, kissing him there. Despite just how close they are, it's the only point of contact between them, frustratingly enough for Peter.

 

“Dinner at 6 tonight. Wear something nice,” Chris rumbles before curling his tongue around Peter's earlobe and mouths at it sensuously, biting it softly. He disappears soon after, as silent as he came.

 

Peter swallows and takes a slow breath before he calmly resumes making his tea, blowing into a mug and taking a sip.

 

A smirk pulls onto his face. Chris is getting impatient.

 

Excellent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris/Peter/John in the next chapter! :3


	15. Carmine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot DILF lovin'!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my beta and internet friend who recently messaged me again and inspired me to pump out and finish this chapter. 8D

Peter takes his time getting ready. He hums as he takes a quick perfunctory shower, then draws a hot bath, adding in a few drops of his favorite oils and scents before undressing and submerging himself in the tub with a sigh of pleasure, settling in for a nice long soak.

 

When he starts to feel like a prune, he drains the tub and begins the long meticulous process of grooming himself to perfection. It's times like these that he's thankful his body hair is rather fine for his hair color and not nearly as dark, unlike his nephew if his eyebrows and perpetual five o'clock shadow are any indication.

 

Once everything's in its place and where it should be, skin silky smooth and soft to the touch, he finishes up and starts on his goatee in front of the mirror, trimming and cleaning up the edges until they are to his satisfaction. Then he exits the bathroom in a plume of steam and heads for his temporary room here on the first floor where he's been storing some of his things, like his clothes and toiletries.

 

He leisurely peruses what he has on hand, and decides on a pair of dark stone-washed jeans and a light beige cashmere v-neck sweater that hugs him in all the right places.

 

After a quick spritz of cologne and a couple dabs of aftershave to his face and throat, he gets dressed then takes another trip back into the bathroom. There, he squeezes a little dollop of hair gel into his palm and rubs his hands together before running his fingers through his hair, tidying it all up with a comb.

 

Inspecting himself in the mirror, he gives himself a smirk before washing his hands and wiping them with a nearby hand towel. He's got this.

 

After putting on his shoes and making sure he's got the essentials – keys, wallet, phone – he's on the hunt for a specific gray peacoat that will complete his casual debonair look, which ends up leading him upstairs to his bedroom...their shared bedroom.

 

Peter finds himself hesitating at the door, not having been in there for so long, but internally steels himself and slowly reaches out a hand to turn the knob.

 

Their familiar combined scent immediately assaults his nose, and for a moment his knees almost buckle. He closes his eyes briefly to savor it, having missed it so much. His own scent in the room is stale, which isn't surprising.

 

When he opens his eyes again, he finds John napping on their bed inside still in his uniform. Peter lets himself smile softly at his Sheriff and silently stalks his way to the bedside. He takes a seat by John's elbow and couldn't resist bending down and kissing the man's lips.

 

John stirs under him and lets out a sleepy, but pleased groan. “Peter?” he slurs as his eyes open groggily.

 

Peter smiles down at him lovingly when he rubs at his eyes with a fist like a child, “Hello, darling.” He gently pets John's hair, “Sleep well?”

 

“Mmph,” John grunts as he cups a hand around the back of Peter's neck and tugs him down again for another kiss.

 

Peter purrs and deepens it, tongue flicking out slyly against John's lips. He makes a pleasantly surprised noise when John pulls him down further to lay completely on top of him with a growl, moaning erotically when the Sheriff slides his big hands down into his pants pockets to cup his ass and give it a good squeeze.

 

“Frisky now, are we?” he pants when they break apart.

 

John nuzzles their noses together, “I've missed you.” He gives another squeeze.

 

“Mmm, missed you too,” Peter murmurs, giving a full body roll against John. The older man lets out a groan and pulls him down again for another kiss.

 

They make out like teenagers until they're half-hard and breathless, before Peter remembers why he's in here in the first place. He glances at the clock on the nightstand and realizes they're going to have to wait to get to the good stuff, until after dinner unfortunately. Not even enough time for a quickie. Shame.

 

With one last smooch he purposefully shimmies off John, smirking when the man groans yet again now that he doesn't have anyone to grind against.

 

“Tease,” he grumbles and Peter winks, blowing him a kiss over his shoulder. “Getting ready for your date tonight?” he asks, blue eyes watching half-lidded as Peter locates his coat inside the closet with a triumphant 'aha!' and tossing it over his arm.

 

“I am, darling. Nearly finished.” The wolf saunters back over to him and takes a seat by his side once more, his hand once again in his hair. “Go back to your nap, love. I can see you're still tired.” He bends down for a nuzzle and one last kiss. “Chris and I will see you later tonight, okay?”

 

“All right,” John mutters, already starting to nod off again as Peter stands, trailing his hand down John's arm. “Have fun. Love you.”

 

Peter's smile is adoring. “I love you, too.” He couldn't resist placing another kiss on John's forehead as the Sheriff slips back into his nap before he crosses the room and exits the door, giving John one last admiring look as he makes sure to shut it quietly behind him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Chris is there at the bottom to greet him. He stops and their eyes meet, and Peter feels like a teenage girl on her way to prom in one of those cliched romance movies. Any minute now, life-affirming music will start playing.

 

He continues his descent at a decidedly leisurely pace until they're standing face to face.

 

“Hi,” says Chris, blue eyes never leaving his.

 

“Hello there,” Peter purrs before he walks a slow circle around Chris, taking in his ensemble as well as the body filling it out. Hm, all black, simple but elegant. Why isn't he surprised, but damn, that ass in those slacks. Yum. “Well, well, well. Don't you look dashing.”

 

Chris had chosen to roll the sleeves of his tucked-in dress shirt up, showing off his strong corded forearms, and left a couple of buttons undone at the top. It gives Peter glimpses of pale skin that he just wants to bite all over and mark up, to show anyone that happen to be looking the proof that this man is his.

 

His eyes flash briefly with the wolf but Chris sees it all the same if the little smirk on his lips is any indication.

 

“Thank you,” Chris rumbles. Blue eyes drag down his own figure slowly, before flicking back up to meet his again. “You look gorgeous, as always.”

 

Peter tilts his head slightly and looks up at him coyly through his lashes. “Thank you.”

 

Chris takes his peacoat from him and helps him into it. Then he grabs his own leather jacket from its resting place on the back of the couch and throws it on in one smooth move, before offering an arm to Peter. “Shall we?”

 

Peter smirks and takes it, curling his fingers in the crook of Chris' elbow, “Let's.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They arrive at _Guy's_ , an upscale but cozy little French restaurant that has a wait list a mile long. Chris knows the owner though, and had reserved a private VIP table on the second floor near the back next to an open balcony.

 

It was all very romantic; dim lights, warm candlelit atmosphere, soft music playing in the background. The two played footsie after they'd ordered and flirted with one another all throughout dinner, in between small talk about John and the pack, and delicious bites of food.

 

Their slow seduction comes to a head when Chris takes Peter's hand in his and kisses his knuckles after they've finished their entrees, running a smoothing thumb over them afterwards, “I have something for you.”

 

Peter raises a brow, heartbeat quickening at the amorous gesture, “Oh?”

 

With a mischievous glint in his eyes which further piques Peter's interest, Chris takes out his wallet and procures a driver's license and pushes it over the table towards the wolf.

 

Peter picks it up, not knowing what he's looking at until it registers that it isn't Chris' driver's license, but his own.

 

“What?” Wide blue eyes meet indulgent ones across the table and Chris smiles softly.

 

“I pulled some strings. The rest of your documents are waiting on your approval, if the data is satisfactory to you. We'll also need an updated photo.”

 

Peter takes a closer look at the info on the driver's license and laughs in disbelief. “ _Jean-Pierre Argent?_ Really?”

 

He realizes Chris is perfectly serious when he meets his eyes again. “Yes, if you want it.”

 

Peter swallows, knowing what Chris was asking without him having to say it outright. “I do.” He pauses, thinking. “And John?” he asks after a moment.

 

The corners of Chris' eyes crinkle as he grins, “Who do you think helped me come up with the name?”

 

Peter laughs again, and they both ignore how his misty his eyes feel as he takes another look over the license in his hands. Everything else is pretty much the same as before on his old license other than his birth date.

 

“You made me younger? Oh, Chris. You really know a way to a man's heart, don't you.”

 

Chris huffs out a chuckle, “Just yours and John's, and it's only a few years. You don't look like your age because of your wolf genes nor act like it, so I'd thought why not. Anyways, the back story we came up with is that you were born in Naples, but lived in Paris until you immigrated here five years ago to be with family after your spouse passed away. How's your French?”

 

Peter smirks and says in a perfect Parisian accent, “ _C'est impeccable, bien sûr._ ”

 

Chris smiles, “ _Bon._ ”

 

“So when you say 'family', do you mean you and Allison, then? Are we related? How naughty.”

 

Chris rolls his eyes as Peter waggles his eyebrows, “I was thinking more of you marrying into the family, than you being blood related. Pervert.”

 

“Hmm, don't you know it,” Peter purrs.

 

Chris' eyes darken. “I do.”

 

Peter returns the look with a heated one of his own before he clears his throat pointedly to get back to the topic at hand, not quite done hashing out the details of his new alias, though he loathes to continue and wants to jump into the good stuff already. Alas, that's put on the back burner for now.

 

He mentally reviews the facts of his supposed new life and comes up with a question, “Wait, you had said 'spouse', not 'wife'. Also, my last name is Argent. Does that mean the new me is openly gay?”

 

“Or bisexual. Whatever your preference.”

 

“My, my, Chris. You really do know me so well.”

 

The charming eye crinkles make an appearance again. “I have years of experience.”

 

“Indeed you do.”

 

Chris takes his hand again. “Now you're free to do whatever you want. You can get a job, buy a car, hell, open a library card if that's what you wanted. I have your funds and assets from Derek that had been frozen when you had 'died' as well as your share of the insurance money ready to transfer into new accounts. Just give me the word and it's all yours.”

 

It all sounds so wonderful. Peter squeezes his hand tight, “Please.”

 

Chris' eyes soften, “Done.” He brings Peter's hand up to his lips again and kisses the wolf's knuckles lovingly before flagging down a nearby waiter. “ _Cheque, s'il vous plaît?_ ”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Before they leave the restaurant, the owner comes out of the kitchen to greet them at their table, a big tall handsome blond man with an athletic build, pearly white teeth and bright green eyes full of mirth, wearing the white uniform that marks him a chef. “Christophe!” he booms, thick baritone voice raspy like a smoker's, as he sweeps Chris into a hearty hug. “ _Mon ami,_ so good to see you!”

 

“Good to see you too, Guy,” Chris manages to huff out, patting the man on the back before he's released from his friend's bear arms. He's promptly pulled close and kissed on both cheeks no less than two times each side, which he returns. “Peter, I'd like you to meet my friend, the owner and executive chef of this place, Guillaume Chasser. Guy, this is Peter Hale.”

 

“Ah, _votre loup,_ _non?”_ the chef mentions lightheartedly, though those green eyes take in Peter curiously.

 

At Peter's raised brow, Chris explains, “Guy's been out of the game for years now. He's actually the one I called for your papers.”

 

“Oh?” Peter looks at the man with new eyes, now that he knew Guy used to be a hunter as well.

 

The blond runs a hair through his short messy spikes and shrugs. “Fell in love with _une sirène,_ and could not very well continue to hunt after we had a child together, _non?”_ Peter's other eyebrow rises. “He iz a marine now!” Guy continues drolly.

 

“Ah. The irony,” Peter smirks, and Guy lets out a guffaw.

 

“I like him!” Guy replies and claps Peter on the shoulder. “You two are welcome back here any time. No waiting!” The chef gives him a friendly squeeze.

 

Peter gives him a gracious nod, “Thank you, Guillaume. That is very generous of you.”

 

“Call me Guy! Any friend of Christophe's iz a friend of mine. How was your meal, _Pierre?”_

 

Peter smirks, “The duck confit was simply superb. That sauce is to die for.”

 

“Really? So glad you like! It iz a new recipe we are trying out.”

 

Chris shakes his head as the two seem to momentarily forget about him while they discuss the merits between frying and grilling. He politely coughs and cuts into the debate minutes later.

 

“I'm glad to see you again, my friend, but we must be going.”

 

“Ahh, time for dessert, eh?” Guy jests with a wink. Peter chuckles.

 

“Yes, I would say so,” the wolf purrs, eyeing Chris hungrily.

 

“So I see,” Guy raises his hands in defeat before pulling Chris in again for another hug and four more kisses, this time in departure. Peter is only kind of surprised when he's next after Chris is released. “Be safe, have fun, and I hope to you two soon!”

 

“Likewise,” says Peter as the two say their farewells and exit the restaurant after retrieving their coats from the maitre d' (yeah, it's that kind of swanky place; Peter's going to have to convince Chris and John to take him back here at least once a month).

 

Once outside by the SUV, Peter goes to open the passenger-side door when he suddenly finds himself crowded up against it as Chris takes hold of his hips and licks into his mouth.

 

“Mmh,” he purrs happily, eyelashes fluttering shut as he flicks his tongue out in response before Chris slots their mouths together more firmly. He slides his hands up Chris' chest and over his shoulders, holding him close as the other man slips a strong thigh in between his own.

 

A moan escapes him, and before he knows it he's grinding down against it, smooth little sensuous rolls of his hips rocking them together erotically. They only break apart when a group of college students, mostly female, happen to walk past and whistle at them.

 

“All right now, children,” Peter calls from over Chris' shoulder, a little breathless, “move along. Nothing to see here.” He shoos them off with one hand, the other in Chris' hair, and they all giggle as they scamper along.

 

Before they're completely out of earshot, the two of them hear one of the girls referring to them as 'DILFs' and, “I wouldn't mind being the meat in that sandwich!” plus a few more lewd but playful remarks.

 

Peter turns to Chris, whose face is buried in his neck and laughs when he notices how red the man's ears and the back of his neck are. How precious.

 

“You can come out now,” he murmurs, amused, “They're gone. What was all that about anyway? Not that I'm complaining.”

 

Chris pulls away from his neck, the remnants of a blush still high on his cheeks as blue eyes look at him lovingly. “I just...couldn't wait much longer,” he answers honestly, “I haven't kissed you in ages...and I love you.”

 

Peter melts. No fair.

 

“I love you too, _beau,”_ he replies, eyes bright as he pulls Chris down for another kiss. He nuzzles their noses together when they break apart. “Let's continue this at home, shall we? I do believe we have a certain, rather handsome Sheriff to find as well.”

 

“You would be correct,” Chris grins before pecking him again real quick, then pulls him away from the car to open the passenger-side door for him and ushers him in.

 

Peter laughs as Chris quickly shuts the door and hurries around the front of the car to hop inside. As the man starts up the SUV, Peter slides a hand high up his thigh and gives a playful squeeze, smirking lasciviously when Chris shoots him a smoldering look before they're peeling out of the parking lot.

 

Off to hunt themselves down a Sheriff!

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Once the two manage to get home safely, which was a feat for Chris since Peter couldn't keep his paws to himself at all the entire ride back, it isn't hard for them to find John inside the house. The older man's sitting in the dining room at end of the table, his back facing them as he flips through some files he has spread out across the tablecloth, his reading glasses perched on his nose.

 

Sharing a look of exasperation, the two silently make their way over, slipping out of their coats and laying them over the back of the couch before Peter drapes himself across John's back, making the older man start a little. His arms snake over John's shoulders to cuddle up to him from behind. “Mmm, what have we told you about bringing cases home? You really do work too hard, darling,” he murmurs, nipping gently at the man's right ear before giving it a little lick.

 

“You're back early,” John says and accepts a steamy kiss from Peter when the wolf turns his head demanding one. Chris sidles up to them and bends for one of his own from John next. Peter purrs at the sight and nuzzles John's temple, his hand sliding down John's front to grope at his firm chest and stomach through the soft thin tee the Sheriff is wearing, finding a hidden nipple to toy with on his way back up. John's groan is muffled by Chris' lips, making Peter smirk wickedly.

 

Together, the two of them easily persuade their Sheriff to call it a night and come to bed, John hastily organizing all his papers and gathering them up to take with him before his lovers drag him up the stairs off to their room.

 

Once inside, Chris backs Peter against the closed door and ravishes him just like he did outside the restaurant. Peter moans delightedly at this new development and arches into him, shamelessly humping against the man's thigh like an eager pup. He gasps for breath when Chris lets go of his mouth to kiss his way down his neck and slide his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, kneading at his ass hungrily. Supernatural blue eyes glow softly as Peter watches John watch them from over Chris' shoulder.

 

The Sheriff shoots him a little sexy smile before calmly putting his files down onto his desk and taking off his glasses, folding them neatly and placing them on top of the stack. Then he proceeds to strip himself of his tee and sweats, pulling down his boxers to join the pile on his desk chair. He grabs a cock ring from the bedside drawer, knowing he's going to need it.

 

Peter licks his lips at the sight of all that naked flesh and purrs. One of his hands is cradling the back of Chris' head to his neck where the hunter is trying his hardest to leave the biggest hickey he possibly can, while his other hand had slid down the man's back cup his ass, taking care to keep their hips together.

 

John prowls towards them, pushes up against Chris' back and slides a hand around the man's throat to pull him back gently, flush against his chest. Chris' body goes loose, complacent and willing, his head leaning back to rest on John's shoulder and baring his neck in submission. John hums in approval, slowly pressing kisses down the offered neck as his hands move to rid Chris of his dress shirt. Peter takes that as his cue to help, deft nimble fingers undoing the buttons one after the other.

 

Once the shirt slides off, the two take a minute to explore newly bared skin, callused hands smoothing over warm, firm, slightly furred planes of muscle before John gently pushes Chris into Peter. One hand stays in between Chris' shoulder blades to keep them pressed against one another as the other guides Chris' hips to push out just a little, enough to arch his back.

 

Peter hasn't stopped purring, not even when Chris leans up to capture his lips again. He runs his fingers through Chris' soft short hair, the other arm draped across the broad expanse of Chris' shoulders as John is busy divesting the man of his pants and the rest of his clothing.

 

When Chris is just as naked as the Sheriff, the two turn on Peter. He wriggles excitedly against the door. This is gonna be _good._

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He tosses his head back and openly moans, loud and long and wanton, eyes rolling back as he pants for breath and a fine tremor works its way down his frame. Peter is naked as the day he was born, fingers twitching into half closed fists from their place beside his head on his pillow – other pillows stuffed underneath his lower back and his hips tilted upwards for easier access – as Chris is on his knees and elbows between his parted thighs, opening him up with his tongue and getting him so wet that he can feel himself dripping, saliva slowly trailing down his crevice.

 

They've been at this for ages now and he was starting to getting impatient, his blood-filled cock laying neglected across his abs. A nip to his sensitive rim makes him twitch and whine, then he hears John chuckle darkly.

 

His eyes struggle to open with some effort, Peter not having realized they had fluttered shut to begin with, and make immediate contact with John's.

 

“Look at you,” John murmurs from his place kneeling behind Chris near the foot of the bed, his big capable hands petting Chris' sides and kneading at his ass, “Splayed out and spread wide for us. Such a pretty pup.”

 

Peter couldn't help but preen at the praise, arching his chest up and biting his lip coyly. He also couldn't help smirking when he sees John's eyes darken further with lust as they zero in on his perky nipples, red stiffened peaks slathered with drying saliva sticking up from his pecs thanks to Chris' enthusiastic mouth.

 

“Please, Papa, won't you touch me? I promise I'll be good,” he cajoles, mewling when Chris stabs his tongue past his rim just then, making him writhe enticingly beneath his mates.

 

“All in due time, pup,” says John before the man reaches to the side to grab the lube placed there.

 

Peter pouts, but mentally shrugs and settles back to enjoy the pleasure of Chris eating him out. The hunter has his nose pressed underneath his sac, his calloused hands cupping his cheeks and spreading them apart with his thumbs for his mouth, opened wide as he devours Peter's hole and makes out with his pucker like it's the last thing he wants to do on this Earth. Peter rocks his hips up into it, encouraging his beau for more with a heated moan.

 

That's when John makes his move. Peter can't see all of it, but John must be doing something _fantastic_ because Chris is suddenly moaning against his ass and wriggling his own for more.

 

The hunter whimpers when their Dom twists his wrist and firmly massages his prostate from the inside and out, the Sheriff's other thumb rubbing into his taint while his fingers curl around Chris' forgotten erection to give him a firm stroke.

 

Chris pulls away from Peter's hole with a soft gasp, resting his head on the wolf's thigh for a moment before John clucks his tongue at him and lets go of his cock to give the meaty globe of his ass a hearty smack with the palm of his hand, making him yelp.

 

“Now, now. You have a job to do, sweetheart. Finish getting my pup ready for me.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Chris accedes quietly, before taking the lube John hands to him and coating his fingers liberally with it. He circles two around Peter's rim, leaving it shiny and wet before sinking them into him.

 

“Nnh!” Peter flinches at the abrupt entrance at first, his hole clenching around the intruders reflexively, but he relaxes soon after a breath or two, enjoying the feeling of having something finally filling him. That lax doesn't last long though as moments later he cries out and tenses up again when without warning, Chris suddenly decides to swallow him down _whole,_ scissoring his fingers to open him wider at the same time.

 

Involuntary trembles shake through Peter when his beau takes a gulp around him, before Chris slowly pulls back a little to take a breath of air through his nose. His bottom teeth carefully, purposefully scrape the underside of Peter's dick for the full effect on the way up, though it's quickly soothed and caressed by his tongue a second later. Peter's hands lift off his pillow a centimeter as if going to reach for Chris, before he remembers Papa placing them there and telling him not to move them. A glance up and Peter sees John looking at him with pride. His pup remembered his place, of course he's proud. The wolf preens and lowers his hands again, letting them go limp as he takes pleasure in Chris' mouth.

 

Just when Chris is about to go down on him again, a filthy groan suddenly vibrates from his throat down Peter's shaft and Chris is startled into nudging Peter's prostate, making the wolf whine high and desperate from the back of his throat. He wants to cum so bad after having been teased and prepped for so long, but he knows how it's going to go in this particular game, exceptionally well in fact. He isn't going to be allowed release that easily.

 

John must be milking the hunter's own hot spot or something equally as explicit if the sounds of Chris' groans and hitched breathing is anything to go by. The smell of their arousal thickening in the air is absolutely mouth-watering, and god, if only he could watch up close to see just how expertly John is taking their man apart.

 

“Please, Sir,” Chris eventually begs, “No more. I'm going to cum...”

 

“Not yet, not until I say. You know the rules,” John gently admonishes, and Chris ducks his head contritely.

 

“Yes, Sir,” he moans, arching his back to give his Dom a better view, mouthing at Peter's balls to distract himself.

 

“Christophe.”

 

At hearing his full name coming from his Dom's lips, Chris stills all over. Peter does as well in response.

 

With both his boys' attention on him, John smiles and leans over Chris' back to murmur in his ear, all the while twinkling blue eyes ensnare Peter's supernatural ones, “If you get Peter to come in 60 seconds, you'll get a reward.”

 

Chris' ears perk up at that, as does Peter's. “...No restrictions, Sir?”

 

“Nope. No restrictions this time. Have at it.”

 

Chris turns his own fierce blue eyes onto Peter and the wolf raises his eyebrows in mild alarm. Should he be worried?

 

Oh boy.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He lasts 38 seconds and ejaculates with a shouted expletive. Chris swallows every drop, the cum-whore.

 

Panting and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, Peter goes boneless as his lovers shift and shuffle in front of him, his mind a little fuzzy around the edges. He's promptly brought back to the present though when he feels a cock head nudging insistently at his hole, kissing at it before it firmly pushes through past the stretched rim. A little moan escapes him as he arches into it, body hot, hyper-sensitized and twitching as Chris pushes in to the hilt. “Mmh...”

 

A warm mouth locks on to his own and he purrs and kisses back, happy to finally be able to participate a little more.

 

Soft, wet noises are heard as they osculate and nip at each other, flashes of tongues could be seen sliding against one another before Chris tilts his head and seals their lips together again, hiding them from view.

 

A slap to the ass jolts Chris into grinding against Peter's prostate and Peter cries out, over-stimulated and ready to bust a nut or two.

 

“Papa...”

 

“Hush now, pup. I'm rewarding Christophe for being a good boy.”

 

Moments later Chris bites his lip, and buries his face into Peter's neck moaning brokenly, rolling his hips into Peter as John's face comes into view over his shoulder. The Sheriff offers Peter a kind smile though his eyes were dark, pupils dilated with rampant, barely hidden lust and fierce, ardent love for his two boys. Peter smiles coyly in return.

 

John bends his head down and licks at Peter's lips, his pup opening up for him easily with a soft whine. He pulls away after a quick dip inside, just wanting a little taste and chuckling when he sees his pup pouting, before straightening up and rolling his hips into Chris, and in turn, Peter.

 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he addresses Chris, “this is your reward. You get to fuck yourself full from both ends. Get to it.”

 

Another smack to the ass makes Chris jump and he gets right to work, pushing himself up shakily onto his hands beside Peter's waist and pulling out a small distance. He bites his lip when Peter's hole clamps down on him, the wolf not wanting him to move away at all, only to sink down balls deep onto John's hard throbbing cock, clenching his own hole around the Sheriff and shuddering with the feeling of being so full at last.

 

“Ahh...”

 

It's not long until he gets a rhythm going, thrusting hard into Peter before rocking back onto John then clenching his hole as he thrusts into Peter again. He works up a sweat, panting and moaning under his breath that's getting louder and louder the closer he gets to the edge.

 

An unexpected thrust into him just as he's sinking back onto John has him keening desperately for release. “Please, Sir, please. Make me cum!”

 

“Hm, I don't know,” John idly states as his hands grab and yank Chris up flush against his chest, stilling him as they snake their way to his front to roughly pinch and pull at his nipples. He hooks his chin over Chris' trembling shoulder to look down at a flushed, wide-eyed Peter with mock-innocence. “What do you think, pup? Should I let him cum deep inside you? Fill you up and keep you full for me? Get you nice and loose and sloppy for my cock?”

 

“Yes, Papa, please. I want it,” Peter simpers and licks at his lips obscenely, fingers curled into fists beside his head. His erection has returned, filled with blood and hard enough to pound nails.

 

“All right then.”

 

With a push between his shoulder blades, John has Chris pinned and laying on top of Peter before he pulls almost all the way out and then plunges right back in with a brutal thrust. Chris shouts out his pleasure, his Dom not wasting time and pounding straight into his prostate with frightening accuracy, reducing him to nothing but a shivering pile of flesh. His hands find Peter's to lace their fingers together, and he holds on tight to the wolf as he's fucked within an inch of his life. Peter's whimpering as Chris' snugly trapped cock prods and jerks against his own prostate with each jarring motion. He milks at it, squeezing and contracting his tight channel around the turgid flesh, wanting its creamy filling now.

 

The two blindly kiss and suck at each other's mouths to try and muffle their cries as John hammers into them, until finally the Sheriff lifts his hand and cracks it across one of Chris' ass cheeks and orders, “ **Cum.** ”

 

Chris does so with a passionate wail, muscles clenched tight all over as he spills into Peter in hot pulsing ribbons. He collapses onto Peter, aftershocks wracking through his system, and he floats, slowly coming down from his sex high.

 

Peter squirms underneath him and looks to John for permission. “Papa, can I touch now?”

 

John smiles, sweat dotting his forehead as he takes deep breaths to steady his breathing, cock standing straight up and choked a deep red by the leather cock ring strapped around the base of his balls, “Okay, pup. You can touch.”

 

Immediately Peter's hands fly across Chris' back, petting and stroking every available inch of skin he could reach, hungry for contact before coming back up to hold his head up for a deep yearning kiss. He rubs himself off mindlessly against Chris' stomach until the hunter settles them both down, gentling their kisses to soft and slow, warm soothing hands running up and down his sides.

 

He makes a noise of protest when Chris is taken away from him, John pulling out of the hunter carefully and settling him off to the side of them to rest and recover. Placing an affectionate smooch to his forehead, he turns back to Peter and leans down for another kind of kiss, this one hot and wet and filthy.

 

“Your turn,” he whispers heatedly against his lips then flips the wolf onto his hands and knees, not giving Peter a chance to adjust as he slides his rock-hard erection right into his sloppy seconds.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Peter moans salaciously – pink tongue peeking out between his kiss bruised lips, eyes heavy with lust – and arches his back, spreading his thighs further and riding that hot fat cock for several moments before he falls to his elbows when John takes control again, hugging his pillow to his chest and wringing his clasped hands together in order to avoid clawing up the bedding. Papa isn't pleased when he does that, says it's wasteful.

“ _Mmh,_ feels so good,” he groans, undulating sensuously and flushing red at the wet, squelching sounds resonating from behind him, Chris' cum acting as additional lubricant to further ease the way inside his already loosened hole. John takes his time, the head of his cock kissing his hole teasingly before thrusting in hard and pulling out at a leisurely pace only to do it all over again.

 

“More,” he snarls, but it quickly morphs into a mewl as John finds his pleasure center. “Mmn~ _yes!_ Please, oh please, right there... _ohh_ – Papa! Yes!!!” He gasps, glowing blue eyes wide as he clenches down on the thick dick that's suddenly pounding into him, “Please! Keep going!”

 

“Shit, you're so good for me,” John rumbles, sweat dripping from him as he takes Peter hard, “Gonna cum soon, honey.”

 

“Give it to me,” he pants out, “Need your cum deep in me, Papa. Please, cum inside me hard...I know you want to.” He writhes, utterly wanton, his tunnel constricting John in a velvet vice-like grip.

 

“ _Fuck._ Yeah, gonna give it to you good,” John grunts, “Fill your slutty pussy right up with my seed. Get you stuffed and pregnant with my child.”

 

Peter goes hot all over. “Yes! Want to give you more pups to love! Please!” he begs.

 

John chuckles breathlessly, “I'm quite happy with the perfect pup and obedient boy I have already.”

 

Peter mewls softly, wriggling his bottom as John ratchets up his speed and power and continuously drills him into the bedding, his swollen cock constantly rutting against the pillows tucked underneath his hips. He turns his cheek, lays his head down to rest and spies Chris avidly watching them for his place over on the pillow right next to his head, a hand palming himself slowly.

 

When blue eyes meet, the hunter scoots closer and seals their lips together in a sweet kiss. Peter hums and happily reciprocates the affection ten-fold. A couple more deep thrusts nearly send him over the edge prematurely but with a murmured command from his dominant mate, he can finally let go and cums all over himself and the pillows under him, moaning lewdly against Chris' lips.

 

“Good boys,” John praises, and warmth fills them both, quite literally for Peter as John reaches down and unsnaps the cock ring off and immediately plunges into him one last time to flood his hole with loads of hot creamy semen.

 

Peter purrs in satisfaction, finally getting what he wants. He's drifting, high on endorphins, and barely registers Chris getting up and returning later with a couple of warm washcloths to clean up with after he's wiped himself down in the adjoining bathroom.

 

John slowly pulls out and Peter could feel a trickle of cum escape before he could try and clench his hole tight to keep it all in. It doesn't stay exposed long though, because a tongue suddenly appears to lick it up, dipping into him to dig out more without much warning. He flinches and yelps at the rather abrupt action but rocks back into the stubbled face eating him clean.

 

When it couldn't retrieve anymore, the tongue reluctantly withdraws and a washcloth replaces it to wipe him up.

 

He's pliant when his mates shift and move him to their liking, the soiled bedding taken away to the hamper to be washed tomorrow before one body spoons up behind him and the other snuggles up into his front. Multiple arms snake and slither around various body parts, and the three trade sleepy kisses and sweet whispered nothings with each other before one by one, they descend into to sleep with a soft, barely audible sigh of contentment.

 

All is right in the world now that the three of them are all together again, and woe to anyone or anything who dares to try and take one away from the others.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Peter stirs when John tries to slip away from his arms. He tightens them and whines quietly in annoyed protest while his eyes remain stubbornly closed which earns him a chuckle. Gentle butterfly kisses rain onto his face and forehead to lull him a little before John strokes down his arms to capture his hands and presses kisses to them too. With one last peck to the cheek, the Sheriff gets up from the bed much to his displeasure, though John offers him his pillow to hug in his absence to appease him.

 

Peter snuggles into it as he listens to his mate go through the motion of his daily morning routine after he silences his alarm clock before it could go off, Chris shifting his legs behind him as the hunter slowly awakens as well.

 

By the time John reemerges from the bathroom, they're both eyeing him balefully for leaving but John could also see the appreciative gleam in their half-lidded eyes. He's dressed in a fresh uniform and the two always loved watching their man transform into the Sheriff, even though it's Sunday which is a day of rest and not a day to go down to the station to fill in for a shift since they're still a little short staffed. Peter grumbles at this injustice. Chris makes a noise of agreement.

 

John laughs at them and ambles on over back to the bed to lean down and give them each a kiss good morning.

 

“It's criminal that you're up and ready to leave right now, just so you know,” he huffs, “Whoever is making you go into work today should be thrown in jail.”

 

“Seconded,” Chris mumbles sleepily into his shoulder after John kisses him fully awake.

 

“So I should arrest myself?” John quips with a raised eyebrow.

 

Peter gives him a dirty grin and waggles his eyebrows, “Well, handcuffs are on the kink list.”

 

The Sheriff heaves an aggrieved sigh and shakes his head in amusement, “I have to do the second round of interviews today, and the faster I get through them, the more people can be hired at the station sooner and the more time I can take off from work to relax and spend with _you_.”

 

“I hate it when you make sense,” Peter huffs.

 

John just laughs before making his way to his desk, which suddenly makes Chris sit up and pay attention. Curious, Peter does so as well, leaning against the hunter when Chris wraps an arm around his waist and kisses his temple.

 

John opens up a bottom drawer and procures a white box with a red bow on top of its lid.

 

“Presents?” Peter tilts his head inquisitively.

 

John merely smiles and hands it to him, sitting on the edge of the bed by his side. “Open it.”

 

Peter looks to Chris, who smiles encouragingly and nods, before taking the lid off the box to find several smaller white boxes of varying sizes inside, some of them jewelry boxes.

 

John reaches in to pull one out and opens the hinges to reveal John and Chris' golden wedding rings they proposed to each other with, linked together with the ones that were normally attached to their ring fingers in memory of their wives on a silver necklace chain.

 

Peter's eyes fly to their left hands and finds them bare before looking up at one and then the other rapidly in bewilderment.

 

Chris smiles gently, “After what happened, John and I talked and decided to wear these around our necks instead.”

 

“To make room for these,” John adds and pulls out another jewelry box to show Peter three broad, glinting, titanium silver wedding bands all lined up in their individual spots nestled inside the box. The rings are beautiful with soft curves of design cutting through the shiny silver, a ribbon in a style almost like the strokes of a calligraphy pen, thicker in the center of the curve then thinning out on the slopes. Apart, the designs are simple and unassuming, but placed together just so like in the box, they make pictures of elegant hearts, three to be exact, throughout the outer circumference.

 

Peter stares. They weren't really...?

 

“Peter,” John soft utters and Peter snaps his attention to him, blue eyes wide.

 

The Sheriff carefully plucks up the ring in the middle to show the wolf the engraved words on the inside. _The Moon._

 

“We know in today's law it wouldn't be recognized, but...”

 

“Will you do us the honor and marry us anyway?” Chris murmurs into his ear.

 

A tear slips down his cheek without his permission and he swallows with some difficulty before he whispers back, “ _Yes._ ”

 

John kisses the tear away and slips his ring onto the proper finger.

 

His ring. _His_ ring. His _ring._

 

“Do you think we broke him?” John whispers loudly to Chris a minute later and Peter breaks out into laughter, shoving at his Sheriff playfully.

 

The other two join in, tickling him in return before the three end up hugging tightly and leaning against each other.

 

Chris wipes the rest of his tears away before he returns his attention to the rings and examines the two still left in the box. He takes out the one at the top and read the inscription. _The Sun._

 

John holds out his left hand and smiles lovingly as Peter slides it onto his finger just a little shakily before taking the last one from the box and does the same to Chris, whose ring reads _The Stars_.

 

“Now it's official,” Chris rumbles.

 

“But wait, there's more,” says John, and he reaches into the bigger box again for another present which is a surprise even to Chris.

 

It turns out to be specially made collars for them both, soft supple leather that's held together with a locking charm hooked into D-rings that sits in the middle of their throats. Chris' is a bullet, and Peter's is a detailed six-pointed pendant reminiscent of the Sheriff's badge. John has the keys sitting on a shorter chain to go around his neck above the golden wedding bands.

 

Chris has his turn at gift-giving as well.

 

Thick leather bracelets covered in beautiful ruins for Peter and John are produced from the nightstand on his side of the bed, charmed and armed to the teeth with as many protection spells, repellent spells and concealing spells he could think of with some help from Stiles and Deaton. There's also a tracking spell and a monitoring chip embedded into the leather, so in the event that something happens (and it will), the bracelets will allow Chris to know where the two are at all times and if they are in any danger the moment it happens, as if on instinct.

 

Last but certainly not least, John turns back to Peter and gives him the greatest gift of all.

 

In the event anything were to happen to him due to supernatural causes, Peter has explicit permission to make the call. He can consult with Chris and Stiles and anyone else he deems necessary but in the end, the wolf gets the final say. God forbid anything does happen, but if it does, Peter could literally have John's life in his hands and John trusts him to make the right decision, just as he trusts Chris if he were to end up at the hospital for any other reason as his power of attorney.

 

Peter almost refuses outright, saying Chris is the better candidate in even supernatural affairs but both John and Chris insist that they are to have equal power in what to do if something drastic were to happen to him, and vice versa. He cries in their arms, eternally grateful and absolutely terrified to be bestowed with such a great responsibility.

 

More tears were shed before John clears his throat as Chris passes around tissues, “Why don't you two go and freshen up, hm? I'll make breakfast and we can eat together before I leave for work.”

 

“I want banana strawberry pancakes,” Peter demands, “You made me cry, so therefore pancakes.”

 

“And hash browns,” adds Chris, “And maybe a ham and cheese omelet.”

 

“Ooh, omelets are a good idea, too.”

 

John chuckles, “Yes, dears.”

 

Peter grins, his eyes wet. Even though he can't get married to the loves of his life like he originally wanted – to be able to shout it to the rooftops and show off how handsome and sexy and perfect his mates were – if this is the consolation prize, he'll take it. It's more than enough.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later that day, John is sitting at his desk and is just about to wrap up his last interview for the day so he can hurry back home to his fiancés. He shuffles some papers around, tapping them on the desk to straighten them before paper-clipping them and putting them into a manila file folder, then looks up at the handsome young man in front of him. He smiles and stands, offering him a hand to shake.

 

“Congratulations and welcome aboard, Deputy.”

 

Deputy Jordan Parrish jumps up to stand as he does and shakes his hand in a nice firm grip, smiling beatifically in excitement and gratitude. “Thank you, Sheriff. I look forward to working for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo...Anyone out there? *cricket noises* If there is, could you drop me a review and tell me how I'm doing? The more feedback I get, the faster I tend to write. Concrit is welcome, just don't be an a-hole about it. Kthxbye!


	16. Russet

Stiles sticks his tongue out in concentration as he focuses all his energy in keeping the ball of soft, blue light between his hands as stable as possible. This doubles as an exercise to strengthen his spark, as well as test how his ADHD is holding up against his all natural medicinal alternative. So far, so good.

 

Deaton predicts that with more practice he won't even need that anymore, that being able to fully wield his spark anytime at will should snuff out the last of his disorder. The vet hypothesizes that the reason he has ADHD in the first place might be because as a child growing up, his body didn't know how to handle all this energy when his spark first manifested, so it made him appear hyperactive – unable to sit still and pay attention.

 

It certainly makes sense, and it's great news compared to the wall he'd hit in regards to the research he'd been doing on whatever creature that had attacked Peter weeks ago. The simple fact that it's still lurking out there somewhere is driving Stiles crazy.

 

There hasn't been anything new for weeks, except for faint traces of a foreign scent here and there that never lead to anywhere or anything concrete. Frustrated, Stiles had decided earlier in the day to come by the clinic for a quick lesson after school in order to clear his head for a bit, before Derek comes to pick him up for Food Night at Dom's place.

 

A time goes off in the background and the ball of light vanishes from his hands as his concentration is broken.

 

“Ah, looks like your calming draught is nearly done,” says Deaton from his examination of a happy little Norwich terrier mix.

 

“Looks like it,” Stiles quips as he meanders over to the table holding up his honest-to-god cauldron, smoke billowing out of it lazily like one of those smoke machines Jungle loves to use on a good Saturday night. He gives the terrier a little scritching behind the ear on his way by much to the pup's delight, yipping as his little tail going a mile a minute.

 

Laughing, Stiles checks the old spell book that lays open next to his cauldron and then glances into it to make sure the potion is the pastel purple color it's supposed to be. Reaching over it, he plucks a jar he'd been looking for off one of the nearby shelves and sprinkles a little of its contents into the cauldron, then waits. A moment later, there's a small 'poof!'

 

Stiles blinks rapidly and waves his arm to clear away some of the smoke to reveal his potion, which had turned a cool mint color. He fist pumps into the air. “Success!”

 

Deaton smiles to himself behind Stiles' back as the young man flails around in excitement before he lifts his head to look up off into the distance as he feels a tug on one of his wards.

 

Stiles looks up as well with a smile, feeling his mate bond becoming stronger.

 

“You may pass the mountain ash, Derek,” Deaton calls, and moments later the door opens and Derek pokes his head inside.

 

“Hey, Der-bear!” Stiles runs up and leaps into his arms, giving the Alpha a loud smacking 'muah!' on a stubbly cheek.

 

“Hey, baby,” Derek smiles at his enthusiastic mate, big strong hands supporting his bum, “I take it your lesson went well?”

 

“Yeah! I finished my potion, come look!” Stiles says excitedly, jumping down and tugging his wolf over to show off his work, rambling happily about what it is and the entire process of making a calming draught.

 

Deaton finishes up with the Norwich terrier, gently picking the pup up and setting him into his cage for the night; his owner is coming tomorrow to pick him up now that he's got a clean bill of health. He wipes his hands with a clean damp hand towel, then wipes down the metal table before tossing it into a nearby basket and making his way to the Alpha pair.

 

Stiles is just winding down from his explanation, all the while his nimble fingers are pouring the draught into a funnel and filling a couple of glass bottles with it as Derek watches on with interest. He corks them before presenting them to the vet with a dramatic, flourishing “Ta-da!”

 

“Wonderful,” Deaton intones evenly and takes the bottles, whisking them away to store them in a safe place.

 

Stiles crosses his arms and pouts. Why is it that Deaton always manages to rain on his parade, without even doing anything in particular except continue to be his usual unflappable self? He's brought out of his grumblings when Derek wraps an arm around his waist and kisses his temple. Okay, that makes things a little better.

 

“You did a fine job today, Stiles,” says Deaton as he turns away from the cabinets he keeps his 'other' medications. He gives the younger man a proper smile. “Your training is progressing exceptionally well and at the exponential rate you're going, pretty soon you won't need my help anymore.”

 

At the sudden acknowledgment, Stiles turns pink and rubs the back of his neck, smiling bashfully, “Really? Thanks, Doc. Same time next week?”

 

At Deaton's indulgent nod, the couple takes that as their cue and wish the vet a good afternoon before he leaves the room to start closing down shop for the day.

 

“Ready to go?” Derek asks as he nuzzles him gently. Stiles sighs happily and nuzzles back, nodding.

 

“Yeah, let's blow this popsicle stand.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The camaro pulls up into Dom's long winding driveway early and parks in front of the five-car garage. Dom likes her two and four-wheeled toys which both Derek and Stiles can appreciate.

 

Leonard answers the door like always with a warm polite hello, taking their jackets and directing them into the living room where Dom stands from the couch to greet them with hugs and kisses.

 

They sit and chat, catching up on gossip as they wait for the others to arrive.

 

Stiles is in the middle of regaling Dom with a story that happened at school involving Greenberg and his lacrosse stick, stuffing his face with the delicious little appetizers Leonard had whipped up in between flailing his hands and gesticulating wildly.

 

There's a bit of food stuck to the corner of his mouth that makes Derek huff fondly under his breath before he takes hold of Stiles' chin to keep him still and leans in to lick it off his face.

 

Stiles stops short and flushes in embarrassment. “Dereeek,” he whines, swatting at the were half-heartedly, “Not in front of Dooom.”

 

Dom hides her smile behind her manicured hand daintily. “Such a good Alpha to your mate, wolf.”

 

Derek puffs up his chest a little and preens as Stiles sighs dreamily and nods, “Yeah, he sure is...” Then something suddenly occurs to him, “...wait a minute.” Wide amber eyes stare across at Dom, who appears unruffled. “You...you know about...?”

 

Derek looks confused, tilting his head, “You didn't know she's supernatural?”

 

Stiles whips his head around to stare incredulously at his mate, “And you did?! Since when?!”

 

“Since Halloween at the show.”

 

Stiles turns big, betrayed eyes at Dom.

 

Dom smiles apologetically, though her eyes twinkle with humor, “Oh, cherie, it was never a good time to tell you. That, and I was not so sure if you yourself were in the know.”

 

Stiles does not relent, in fact he pouts pathetically at the queen; his bottom lip even wibbles a little.

 

Dom's resulting chuckle only makes him jut out his lip even further.

 

At his side, Derek hums in sympathy and gives the side of his face a smooch, nuzzling him. It pulls a reluctant smile out of him and he kisses him back. Dom regards the two affectionately.

 

“Well, uh, not to sound rude or anything, Dom, but what are you exactly?” Stiles asks.

 

“I am a djinn, ma petite,” Dom simply answers, “and so is Leonard.”

 

Stiles whips his head around and points at the butler accusingly when he enters the room, “You too?!”

 

Leonard blinks then slowly extends the tray full of more appetizers he's holding as a gesture of peace. Stiles makes grabby hands and mutters a 'thank you' when Leonard passes over the tray, before shoveling the morsels into his face and imitating a chipmunk again. Dom's laughter echos throughout the room as Derek sighs and reaches for some napkins.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When the others arrive, Dom spills the beans about the rest of the ladies. Apparently she isn't the only one that isn't human.

 

Anita's eyes go entirely pitch black as a pair of horns protrude out just after her hair line and a long, slim whip-like tail with an arrow head at the end emerges from the bottom of her spine. “Do not fear, querido, I am reformed!” the she-demon says cheerfully. The pups 'ooh' and 'ahh', taking to playing with her tail and touching her horns curiously, with permission of course.

 

Then the twins' eyes glow a bright gold, pupils contracting into slits as pairs of cat ears pop up and two forked feline tails appear, newly visible whiskers twitching minutely.

 

“And what are you two?” Stiles faintly asks.

 

“Nekotama!” the two reply. Erica, Allison and Isaac squeal and rush over to pet their kitty ears, much to their delight.

 

Amber, Crystal and Sugar Mama remain the same. “100% human, honey,” says Sugar Mama.

 

Thank god for that. Stiles isn't sure he could take many more surprises in a single day.

 

“Food?” Boyd pipes up after a while, and Stiles could kiss him. He jumps up and claps his hands once.

 

“You heard the second-in-command. To the kitchen!” he yells and hustles into the kitchen with Derek and Boyd in tow, the rest following at a more sedate pace, though just as lively.

 

Just another night for the Hale pack and friends.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later that evening, Anita mentions something interesting. “You know,” she starts, twirling a lock of her hair idly after finishing a slice of the devil's food cake they'd made for dessert in lieu of her reveal earlier, “Rumor has it that something big is going to happen, and soon.”

 

“What do you mean?” asks Lydia as Danny took their plates to the kitchen sink.

 

“What I mean, chica, is that there has been a trespasser here in Beacon Hills for weeks now,” Anita continues. “We, as part of the supernatural community, feel a sense of foreboding coming.”

 

“And it shall come,” Dom states ominously, setting down her tea cup, “My contacts have told me the Winchesters are headed this way.”

 

The twins gasp, their hands flying up to cover their mouths, “The Winchesters?” They look at each other in worry, ears lying flat against their heads.

 

Derek's eyes flash red and he lets out a low growl at the news. Stiles looks at his mate in concern before the name registers, “Wait, Winchesters? ...Their first names wouldn't happen to be Sam and Dean, would it?”

 

Dom raises her eyebrows, “Oui. How did you know, cherie?”

 

“It might just be a coincidence, but I have cousins named Sam and Dean Winchester, from my mom's side.”

 

“Knowing our luck, it's no coincidence,” says Scott, his brows scrunched together.

 

Allison looks unsettled, “The Winchesters are legendary among hunters and the supernatural alike. They're not to be taken lightly by any means.”

 

“We need to speak with Chris as soon as possible,” Derek rumbles, his hand squeezing Stiles' hand, “I will not have any unknown hunters in my territory without them being thoroughly checked out as well as have them obtain my express permission.”

 

“I will cast nets out, see what else I can dig up,” says Anita, her tail flicking through the air in agitation.

 

“We'll keep an ear out on our end too,” Amber chimes in with Sugar Mama and Crystal nodding. “You never know what can turn up at Jungle, right?”

 

“As will I,” Dom looks Derek in the eye, voice sounding grave, “Be careful. Be safe.”

 

Stiles doesn't know if she's referring to the Winchesters or the thing they're apparently hunting. Probably both.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The following night, Chris and Peter walk into the police station with dinner for the two of them and John. At the front desk is a light auburn-haired man they've never seen before.

 

The young deputy looks up and his bright green eyes find two pairs of blue. “Hello, gentlemen,” he flashes perfectly straight white teeth at them in a friendly smile, “How can I help you?”

 

“Well, I could certainly name a few things,” Peter murmurs with a suggestive brow, a hint of a French accent coloring his words. He smirks when the boy blushes prettily and Chris elbows him lightly in the ribs, a playful warning.

 

“Peter, behave,” he admonishes though his eyes glow with mirth. He turns back to the deputy and smiles apologetically. “Ignore him, he's always like that. My name's Chris Argent, a pleasure to meet you.” He sticks out a hand and the deputy stands to shake it.

 

Peter does the same. “And I am Jean-Pierre Argent, but please, call me Peter. All my friends do. Though I must say, the pleasure is all mine,” he wiggles his eyebrows flirtatiously. The deputy smiles bashfully, his cheeks still a little pink.

 

“Nice to meet you both. I'm Deputy Parrish. What brings you two here tonight?”

 

“We're here with dinner for my fiancé,” says Chris, gesturing with the big lunch bag in his hands.

 

“Oh, is she expecting you?”

 

“Yes, he is.” Chris gives him a little smirk.

 

“Oh...” Chris and Peter watch as the pieces fall into place in the deputy's head. ”Oh!” Parrish's eyes light up in understanding just as John breezes into the front lobby.

 

“There better be something greasy in there,” is what the Sheriff mutters as a greeting before he walks up to Chris and kisses him straight on the mouth. It's supposed to be chaste, but Chris couldn't help up leaning forward with a parting nip when John goes to pull away.

 

Meanwhile, Peter watches Parrish's eyes go wide and his mouth fall open slightly out of the corner of his peripheral. That lovely flush is back full force, he notes and grins wolfishly at the implication. Oh, this is too good.

 

John huffs in amusement, raising a brow at Chris who grins back unrepentant, before turning and clasping a hand onto the side of Peter's neck and giving it a gentle squeeze. It lingers a little longer than normal between two mere friends then slips down his front, trying and failing to appear as a normal casual descent before falling back to his side. This doesn't go unnoticed by Parrish. “What did you two bring me?”

 

“A meal lovingly made from your son, what else?” Peter snorts.

 

“Don't you sass me,” John mumbles absently as he peeks into the lunch bag Chris is holding. “Is there anything good?”

 

“Of course there is, it is all good,” Peter insists.

 

“Yeah, but is it all healthy? I want actual meat, real 100% red meat,” John nearly whines.

 

“Why don't we unpack this in your office and find out, hm?” Chris suggests as he starts walking further into the station, “Good to meet you, Deputy.”

 

“Likewise,” Peter winks before following the other man inside.

 

John shakes his head fondly after the two, then turns to his newest recruit. He furrows his brow in concern at how red the young man is. “You all right there, Parrish?”

 

“Yes!” the deputy's voice cracks before he clears his throat and waves his boss away, “I'm fine, Sir. Enjoy your dinner.”

 

John narrows his eyes suspiciously but shrugs it off, “All right, don't work it too hard now. Wouldn't want to wear you out too soon,” he jests as he departs, not noticing Jordan nearly choking on his spit as the words bounce around inside the deputy's head, warped to echo back in a lower rumbling timbre version of the Sheriff's voice that immediately spark images he really shouldn't be having, about _his boss_ no less, especially since he has the apparent men in his life already.

 

Men as in plural, because Jordan has a strong inkling Peter isn't merely a friend or an acquaintance of the Sheriff; and boy, does _that_ bring up even more images he really shouldn't be thinking about.

 

...At least, not at work.

 

He knew working for a man as handsome as the Sheriff would spell potential trouble for him, since he always had a weak spot for men of authority (especially the good-looking ones; it's one of the reasons he stayed in the army for as long as he did), but he'd thought he could handle it. The Sheriff's only one man, how bad could it be?

 

He could tamp down his sudden infatuation he'd developed when he'd first met the man during his interview. It doesn't help that John Stilinski is such a great boss to work for even though he's only been here for a little over a week and an even greater guy in general, but he'd managed it, no biggie – that is up until five minutes ago.

 

Now he has to deal with _three_ hot older men walking around here? Two of which are definitely engaged to each other, and another a likely third to their triad by the looks of it? The signs aren't obvious if someone doesn't know what to look for, but Jordan does.

 

He thunks his head on the desk and whines quietly to himself. Just what did he get himself into when he applied for this job?

 

Trouble, Jordan, that's what.

 

He sighs morosely.

 

It's inevitable; he's _doomed_.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Once the office door is closed behind them, Peter breaks down into cackles, uninhibited with glee.

 

Chris tries to hide a smile and John stares at him bewildered. “What's so funny?”

 

“Oh, John,” Peter coos wiping away an errant tear before sauntering up to him with a delightfully devilish grin and throwing his arms around his neck, John's own arms automatically circling his hips, “Is that boy the one you just recently hired? He's simply precious, I could just eat him up – can we keep him?”

 

“No,” John automatically answers and Peter pouts at him, “What exactly are you going on about?”

 

“Don't tell me you haven't noticed,” Peter purrs.

 

“Noticed what?”

 

“That the boy out there has a crush on you,” Chris throws in, all nonchalant as he readies plates of food and utensils onto John's desk.

 

“What?!”

 

“It's utterly adorable, really,” Peter chortles. John sputters, left floundering for a reply.

 

Chris looks up after he's finished setting up dinner with a raised eyebrow, “You didn't notice how he sat up straighter when you came up to us?”

 

“Or how his eyes never left you when you entered the room?” Peter croons slyly.

 

“Or how red he turned when you kissed me?” Chris sidles up to them.

 

“Though I don't think it was out of jealousy...”

 

Chris and Peter share a smirk, “No, I don't think so either.”

 

“Can't blame the poor dear, really.”

 

“Agreed. We were kind of showing off.”

 

“Maybe just a little bit.”

 

“You two are insane!” John shakes his head, flustered at what his lovers were implying.

 

“Maybe,” Peter concedes, “but keep an eye on that one for future reference and you'll see.”

 

“Yeah, what happened to your freakishly good cop senses, old man? They should be buzzing like crazy with how much pheromones that boy is probably pumping out.” Chris ducks away with a chuckle when John swipes at him half-heartedly.

 

“And he is, have no doubt,” Peter taps the side of his nose, “The nose knows.”

 

“You two are ridiculous,” John exasperates, but there's a smile in his voice.

 

Peter winks at him, “And you love us more for it.”

 

“I do,” he agrees with a groan, as if it's such a great burden to bear.

 

Peter tuts and clucks his tongue before guiding the Sheriff down to sit. “Enough of that for now, eat your dinner. Stiles will kill me, _again_ , if I don't make sure you're eating your vegetables.”

 

John huffs, “Do I at least get salt on them?”

 

“Just a touch,” says Chris as he seasons John's dish to Stiles' precise specifications. He sets the plate down in front of John and kisses the man's cheek before sitting down himself and handing Peter his own plate.

 

John smiles as he observes his loves ribbing and bickering at each other good-naturedly, and tucks into his food. Really, he wouldn't have this moment any other way.

 

...Well besides the red meat that is no where to be found on his plate, but you can't have it all, he supposes.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Since he couldn't stop thinking about it, John takes Peter's advice and puts his cop senses to good use over the next few days. He takes note of the fact that every time he was anywhere near the vicinity of his newest deputy, Parrish always knew he was there and would turn 100% of his attention to him. The young man had also started following him around the station like a puppy, but that could be explained away as shadowing his boss to learn about his daily tasks, though Parrish was always standing just a little closer to John than most people would normally.

 

The deputy would complete all his assigned duties in a timely manner, always finishing what he started before asking if there was anything else he could do to help; and John would have chalked everything up to Parrish being an excellent employee, except he also noted that in a matter of days, Parrish had taken to getting him coffee every so often – even remembering exactly how he likes it – along with a low-fat sugar-free muffin from the little nearby coffee shop around the corner.

 

Every time John thanked him for the caffeine or praised him for a job well done, the younger man would preen a little, and the one time he clapped the boy on the shoulder after a particularly troublesome case, giving the muscle a squeeze, Jordan had rubbed the back of his neck, humbly flushed from the attention but delightedly pleased all the same. He'd looked up at John through long dark lashes and had given him a lovely little smile.

 

John had felt his heart skip a beat then.

 

...Hoo, boy. He might actually be in a bit of trouble here.

 

It doesn't help that Chris and Peter have taken to visiting the station constantly with food deliveries as the excuse, the latter flirting outrageously with his new deputy while the former looks on in amusement and definitely not helping the matter whatsoever.

 

John's a little worried about the poor boy's blood pressure; he's constantly red in the face no thanks to Peter's relentless teasing.

 

Officially, John and Chris are engaged and for the most part, people that noticed and asked about the new rings on their fingers are quite supportive of that. As for Peter, well, they don't exactly go around telling people about their third lover and announcing it for all to hear, but they aren't ashamed of him either and don't necessarily hide him away. So subtlety is the name of the game, but really it's no one's business but their own. Those who were keen enough to pick up on the potential theory of the relationship among the three wisely kept it to themselves.

 

Seems like Parrish might be one of those with keener senses, and he didn't appear to be at all bothered by it. At least, morally bothered by it.

 

Physically on the other hand...

 

Flushed cheeks, soft parted pink lips, dilated pupils?

 

Yep – John's most definitely in trouble in the face of temptation. _That_ face to be specific.

 

He sighs, shoulders slumped, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

Doomed, he's doomed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

One evening while Chris is out on business and Peter has disappeared to god knows where, Stiles and Derek take on the task of bringing the Sheriff his dinner.

 

“I'm just saying,” Derek continues as he pushes the door open for his mate, “it won't kill your dad to have some chocolate once in a while. Chocolate's good for you, and besides, he's one of the healthiest men I've come across.”

 

“Blasphemy!” Stiles retorts as he breezes past into the lobby, “He's healthy 'cause I keep him that way. Don't you see? He's trying to play you against me in his quest for sugar and fat.”

 

Derek sighs and shakes his head, a little smile quirking his lips.

 

Well, can't say he didn't try for his mate's father. Sorry, John.

 

“Oh,” Stiles suddenly stops and Derek nearly bumps into his back, “You must be the new guy.”

 

Curious, Derek looks up and his eyes widen in surprise.

 

“Jordan?”

 

Equally wide green eyes stare back. “Derek? Derek Hale? Is that really you?” A bright grin splits Jordan's attractive face and the deputy stands up to give him a great big hug. “It's been so long! So good to see you.”

 

Derek laughs and gives his old friend a squeeze around the middle. “I could say the same. You haven't changed a bit.”

 

“Look who's talking!” They pull away and share a smile, arms still wrapped around each other, before Derek turns to adorably confused mate.

 

“Stiles, I want you to meet an old friend of mine from New York. This is Jordan Parrish – we went to college together. Jordan, this is Stiles Stilinski, my other half.”

 

Jordan's eyebrows go up at Derek's choice of words, but his smile is earnest and charming when he sticks out a hand for a shake, which Stiles takes gingerly. “Hi there, Stiles. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

 

In the presence of the gorgeous deputy, Stiles doesn't quite know how to feel; a little wary, a little jealous and a little turned on all at once. He has the distinct feeling he's missing something here. “Uh...hiii.”

 

“Stilinski, right? Are you a relative of Sheriff Stilinski?”

 

“Yeah, he's my dad.”

 

“Ah,” Jordan looks at the bag Stiles is carrying, “Dinner?”

 

“Yep,” Stiles gestures to the entrance that would take him to his dad's office, “I'll just drop this off real quick. You two catch up.” He scurries away, leaving the two in the lobby as he heads further into the building, mind churning because _wow_ is Parrish hot. Hot like the sun,  and he got Derek to open up like it was _nothing_ , as if Derek isn't the grumpy, frowny face sourwolf everyone knows and loves.

 

Stiles thought **he** was the only one that truly got to see the soft marshmallowy center of his Alpha. Apparently not.

 

He doesn't know how to process that just yet, but god, the two of them standing there next to each other? **_Unf._** It could make him actually cry. They just look so beautiful together. He sobs internally at the injustice of it all.

 

After delivering dinner to his father and bickering good-naturedly about the Sheriff's allowance on good omega-3 fats, Stiles leaves his dad to his grilled salmon and Cesar salad. He slows as he nears the entryway back into the lobby, creeping on tiptoes and sneakily peering around the door frame in a poor attempt at spying on the two long lost 'friends'.

 

Sadly, nothing exciting has happened while he was gone; they're where he'd left them, standing around and chatting. That weird combination of feeling jealous and aroused at the same time is back again as he observes them smiling and laughing with each other, the casual hand on Derek's shoulder lingering just a touch too long in Stiles' opinion.

 

As if sensing his stare – which he probably did – Derek turns his gaze from Jordan to Stiles, his resulting smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, which never fails to make Stiles a little weak in the knees at how utterly cute his mate can be.

 

Derek lifts his hand in invitation and Stiles is helpless but to shuffle towards them, fitting himself underneath the wolf's arm as it settles across his shoulders in a comforting hold. “All good?” he asks, and Stiles nods. Derek hums and kisses his temple, nuzzling at his face affectionately.

 

Stiles chances a glance up at Jordan to find the deputy looking at them, dare he say, rather fondly. Huh, interesting.

 

“Well, we better get going. Good to meet you, deputy.” Stiles shakes Jordan's hand again as they say their farewells, Derek giving his friend one last hug before waving and following his mate back to the car.

 

Interesting, indeed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

While they're in bed cuddling that night, Stiles suddenly blurts out, “So how did you meet Jordan?”

 

Derek pulls back a little and looks down at him with a raised brow before going back to nuzzling the top of his head.

 

“I met him when I was in college; didn't want to stay in a dorm and found him looking for a roommate online. I was majoring in architecture at the time with a minor in business and he'd just gotten honorably discharged from the military, going to the local Police Acedemy.”

 

“Roommates, huh. Did you ever...you know...sleep together?”

 

Both of Derek's eyebrows shoot up. “What brought this on?”

 

“Oh, c'mon Der! I have eyes; Jordan's drop dead gorgeous, in the same league as you and Jackson, but unlike you two, genuinely charming and kind.” He gets a pinch for his troubles but it doesn't deter him. “Not like that scumbag Prince Charming in the second Shrek movie but a true, authentic Disney prince. A prince-like deputy. 'Deputy Prince' I shall call him for now on.”

 

“He'll love that,” Derek snorts and grins, “Is this why you smelled jealous earlier?”

 

“Yes, I've never seen you open up so quickly before with anyone else other than me, but I was also chubbing up at the thought of you two together. I demand proof, now answer the question!”

 

Derek sighs and rolls his eyes but eventually says, “Yes, we've slept together in the past.”

 

“Were you in a relationship?”

 

Derek shifts uncomfortably, “Yes, but after a while it devolved and became more of a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing after we discovered we were better off as friends.”

 

“Really? What happened?”

 

“Nothing, just that we weren't each other's 'other half' as we'd liked to say. I knew he wasn't my mate so it never became truly serious, and he knew I wasn't the one for him.”

 

“Did you guys ever get kinky with each other?”

 

“Stiles!”

 

“What?”

 

“Why are you even interested in knowing that?”

 

“Because! Now tell meee,” he whines and pouts up at him.

 

Derek heaves a sigh but obliges when Stiles pokes him in the ribs impatiently, “Yes.”

 

Stiles pokes him again. “And?”

 

He retaliates by pinching him on the butt, smirking when his boy yelps and smacks him on the chest. “And we explored BDSM together, okay? We went to clubs and learned about it and each other in New York's underground scene. There, satisfied?”

 

“Hardly,” Stiles snorts before looking up into fondly exasperated hazel eyes. He smiles and lifts a hand to stroke the side of Derek's face, giggling when his wolf purrs and rubs his cheek into his palm affectionately. “Were you his Dom, Der?”

 

“Yes, I was. I also subbed a bit when I was there to try it out but found myself preferring to dom after a while. Same thing for Jordan but vice versa.” He caresses a hand down Stiles' back and cups his pert bottom, squeezing gently. “Why? Is the thought of me dominating another pretty golden boy sub like Jordan getting you all hot and bothered, baby?” he murmurs, a slow predatory smile curling his lips when Stiles blushes hotly.

 

Now it was Stiles' turn to squirm. “Maybe.”

 

He yelps and laughs when Derek suddenly turns and pins him down to the bed with his body, his weight a solid comfort on top of him, making him feel safe and securely tucked away from the world.

 

Derek hovers over him and breathes out, “Let's do something about that, shall we?”

 

Stiles smirks and wraps his arms around his wolf, nudging their noses together before whispering against his lips, “Yes, Daddy. Let's.”

 

They didn't talk about Jordan for the rest of the night.


	17. Cardinal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kanima is key.

Stiles is scheming. After negotiating with Chris and Peter on who gets what days for delivery duty, and times of observation while people-watching at the station, this is what he's deducted so far:

 

  1. Okay, so Jordan knows Derek from their shared past.

  2. They've slept together and got kinky together, and were in a relationship before they decided that being best friends was better than being boyfriends.

  3. Jordan's such a good guy, charming and friendly and fucking gorgeous as all hell.

  4. He's also a smart and competent professional as a deputy of Beacon Hills.

  5. Peter wants to bang him. His dad knows this.

  6. Chris kind of does too. His dad also knows this.

  7. Jordan has a huge crush on his dad.

  8. His dad's aware of it, and doesn't know what to make of it exactly so he's ignoring this glaring fact until further notice, though Stiles suspects he's incredibly flattered.

  9. Jordan also likes Peter and Chris.

  10. Derek thinks that's a terrible decision. It's Peter, after all. Horrible idea.




 

In conclusion, Stiles thinks that Jordan needs to join their pack; he would be an excellent, invaluable addition to them. The deputy will need to meet the rest of them first though, as well as be informed about the whole supernatural thing.

 

So, he's plotting. His birthday is coming up and it would the perfect opportunity to put his master plan into action.

 

Stiles rubs his hands together with glee. This is gonna be fun.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The pack ends up meeting Jordan on a Saturday night a few days into the month of April. When he knocks on the door to the Hale house, a beaming Stiles answers it with an enthusiastic 'Hey!' before tugging the off-duty deputy inside. He's greeted by Derek with a hug before he's introduced to a group of teenagers all lounging in various areas of the living room, and then he's pulled into conversation with his boss and his lover(s?) near the dining room after saying hello to Melissa McCall, Scott's mom and head nurse down at Beacon Memorial.

 

As Peter and Chris distract him, Melissa gives Jordan a once over, then raises her eyebrows at her best friend. John flaps a hand in the air in a half-hearted attempt at deflecting the issue, which she responds with a pointed look that clearly says she'll be wanting all the juicy details later. John sighs and nods to the inevitable.

 

Meanwhile, the pups end up eyeing Jordan surreptitiously to assess him while his back is turned, some more intently than others.

 

“Don't even think about it,” Stiles warns, pointing a finger at Lydia and Danny, “He's off limits.” Lydia merely raises an eyebrow while twirling a lock of her red hair while Danny laughs and raises his hands in surrender.

 

“Just looking, I promise,” the goalie reassures with a wink, and Stiles snorts but smiles. Jackson on the other hand is scowling from beside his best friend, his arms crossed tightly against his chest which makes Stiles take note to nip that in the bud ASAP. Jealousy needs to be dealt with swiftly and effectively after what happened with Scott.

 

Lydia sniffs haughtily. “I make no such thing,” she declares but her eyes twinkle with her teasing.

 

They bicker back and forth for a bit before Derek swoops in and snatches him up for cake a short time later.

 

Surrounded by the pack, his friends and his family, Stiles couldn't stop grinning as they sing to him and clap along. When they finish with a flourish of jazz hands, he closes his eyes and makes a wish before blowing out the candles to cheers and whoops.

 

The cake, a Batman-themed red velvet marble three-tiered monstrosity that had been baked and expertly decorated by Melissa as a pseudo apology for missing both Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner due to the hospital being short staffed (though the leftovers Stiles had packed and saved for her had been utterly delicious), is sliced and distributed to all who want one. The Sheriff is limited to one small piece which he accepts with a grumble as Chris and Peter laugh while Jordan hides a snicker behind a polite cough.

 

After almost the entire cake is devoured (because werewolves), everyone gathers in front of the big screen to watch a movie – Stiles' choice, of course.

 

As the pack goes for their usual spots, Jordan decides to sit on the floor in front of Stiles, who is curled up against Derek on the couch, beside his friend's knee. He's just settled down when the pretty blond athlete – Jackson, his mind supplies – comes stomping up to him with quite the scowl on his face. The younger man crosses his arms and stands above him menacingly, but Jordan only tilts his head in and blinks up at him in mild curiosity.

 

Jordan's sitting where Jackson sometimes likes to sit, at their feet. Uh oh –

 

Stiles starts to panic. He feels Derek tense next to him in response and he looks at his mate wide-eyed, but before Jackson can open his mouth, Jordan smiles up at him warmly and pats the spot right next to him on the floor in invitation. “Here, come sit.”

 

Jackson blinks and furrows his brows, and just when Stiles thinks he's going to huff and stride away or scoff out a rude comment, the younger blond slowly lowers himself next to the deputy, still eyeing the older man warily.

 

Jordan just continues to grin before engaging his reluctant seating companion in some light conversation.

 

Stiles and Derek share a look, and the brunet shrugs helplessly. They'll just have to see where this new development leads.

 

Thankfully by the time the movie has reached its climax, Jackson has warmed up to Jordan considerably and ended up snuggled close under Jordan's arm after a startling scene in the movie, looking drowsy now as he nuzzles his face against the man's neck a little. Jordan doesn't seem to mind, just resumes absently carding his fingers through Jackson's soft silky hair, fingertips scratching at his scalp gently as his eyes fixed on the screen to watch the ending of the film.

 

Stiles can't suppress his gleeful grin when Jackson moans softly in delight and rubs his cheek against the deputy's shoulder, purring under his breath.

 

He just loves it when a plan comes together.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Things are about to heat up, though not in the sexy way Stiles is anticipating.

 

The following week at school finds the younger male members of the pack finishing up lacrosse practice for the day. Most of the team has already headed inside into the locker room, Stiles and the pups trailing not far behind.

 

He and Scott are goofing off with each other as they follow the rest of their teammates while Isaac and Boyd watch on in amusement.

 

Danny is a little ahead of Jackson, who is the last to leave the field. The blond is taking off his helmet when he suddenly feels a chill go down his spine, as if he's being watched by something or some _one_ unwelcome.

 

He whips around, body doing a complete 180 as his eyes start to glow supernatural blue. They dart around everywhere to try and spot the culprit, a snarl on his lips as his wolf is suddenly up and alert with teeth bared and bristling fur.

 

He doesn't see anything.

 

“Jax?” Jackson turns back around to see Danny along with the rest of his pack looking at him in concern, “What's wrong?” asks the goalie.

 

Stiles makes his way back to him to lay a hand on his shoulder. “You all right, babe?”

 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Jackson shakes his head, looking around again, “but I felt like something was watching me.”

 

Worried now, Stiles shares a look with the others before he gives the area a sweep with own eyes as well, extending his senses as far as his spark will allow. When nothing unusual comes up, he gently tugs Jackson along, “We'll just have to keep our guard up, all right? All of us. No going off by yourself.” A glance from Stiles has the other pups nodding, “Come on, it's getting late. Homework and then dinner, the lot of you.” He shoos them into the building, giving the field and the forest beyond one last lingering glance before stepping inside himself.

 

He doesn't like this. Not one bit.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

That night, his feelings are validated.

 

The entire household is woken up by absolute terror coming through the pack bond. A moment later due to the semi-soundproof walls, a muffled blood-curdling scream fills the hallway and penetrates through. They hear one door fly open, then running feet, and then another door slamming shut. Everyone's up out of bed and going for their own in seconds.

 

Stiles and Derek yank open theirs to see the pups standing and looking around at each other in fear and confusion from their bedrooms before Peter, Chris and a half-asleep John come rushing down the stairs from their room on the third floor.

 

Stiles notices Jackson is absent from the sea of faces in the hallway and the omega's bedroom door is ajar. The one leading into main bathroom, though, is firmly shut.

 

With caution and his growling, overprotective Alpha at his back, Stiles slowly heads down the hall towards the bathroom. He tries the doorknob only to find it locked.

 

“Jackson?” He presses an ear to the door only to hear shuffling and claws clinking on tiles which disturbs him. Sending a quick glance at Derek, he sees his Alpha's glowing red eyes and tries again, “Baby? Can you please open the door for me? I want to see you.”

 

A sad, fearful, sort of mourning noise comes from inside the bathroom and it just tugs at Stiles' heartstrings.

 

“C'mon, babe. It's going to be all right,” he soothes, “but I can't help if I can't see what's going on. Can you be a good boy for me and open the door? Please?”

 

A long moment of stillness passes before Stiles hears Jackson make his way to the door and the lock turns.

 

Sharing another look with Derek, he slowly turns the knob and pushes the door open.

 

The lights are on and he doesn't see his frightened omega at first. As he cautiously steps into the room, he spots him sitting in the bathtub curled up into himself.

 

After taking a couple more steps, he stops dead in his tracks. “Oh, honey...”

 

Tearful, yellow slitted eyes peek up at him and Jackson lets out a pitiful whimper. He's half-shifted, but not as a werewolf.

 

Green scales ripple over the poor pup's torso in random patches, covering his hands which were tipped in venomous claws, his entire lower body, and half of his handsome face. A large reptilian tail is curled around his big raptor feet and Stiles' heart breaks for him.

 

Without hesitation, Stiles climbs into the bathtub with him and wraps him up in his arms.

 

Jackson breaks down and sobs, burying his face into Stiles' chest and clinging to the back of his pack mom's night shirt for dear life, though thankfully he was mindful of his claws.

 

Stiles soothes and shushes him as best he can, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head, before shooting Derek a helpless look when his mate kneels down next to them outside the tub, cushioned by the bathmat.

 

The Alpha gazes back with placid red eyes before he slowly reaches out a hand and runs his clawed fingers through Jackson's silky hair. Slitted eyes peek out timidly from their hiding spot against Stiles' chest before the omega whimpers again and reaches out, wanting love, comfort and acceptance from his Alpha.

 

With a rumble, Derek moves closer over the side of the tub to deliver just that, kissing the tears away and nuzzling his distressed omega, reassuring Jackson and himself as he scent-marks his pup. When Jackson finally calms down enough to breath steadily, Derek cups his cheek in one hand and looks him straight in the eye and growls out lowly, “Mine.”

 

Jackson melts and rubs his cheek against his palm with a mewl, “Yours.”

 

Derek gives him a short nod and kisses him softly on the mouth before gathering him into his arms and lifting him up as he stands, Jackson's tail curled firmly around his waist and thigh. Stiles follows, stepping out of the tub, and cuddles up to Jackson again before the three of them turn towards the door.

 

Just as Stiles is about to take a step away, Jackson grabs the sleeve of his shirt to stop him so he turns back, “What is it, babe?”

 

The omega holds up a hand and splays it open, palm facing Stiles. The brunet eyes it, wary of the claws, before understanding hits him over the head.

 

“You want me to be your Master?!”

 

“Please,” Jackson's small voice is sorrowful and beseeching and so unlike him. Stiles couldn't say no to that. “I need one, and you're the one I trust the most with me being like this. I know you'll be good to me, and won't let me k-kill anyone this time.”

 

Stiles' heart hurts even more for his sweet boy at the stutter. He takes a deep breath and sighs before gentling his voice, “All right, baby. I'll take care of you, I promise.”

 

Jackson smiles, the first one since this entire debacle, “I know.”

 

They line up their hands together and the connection is formed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Soft gasps and sounds of disbelief can be heard from the others in the hallway when they finally exit the bathroom, before the pups shake themselves out of it when they see Jackson hiding his face in Derek's neck and converge on the three.

 

Danny and Lydia are the first ones to greet them, Danny nuzzling his best friend while Lydia coos and strokes his face.

 

Scott and Allison make identical sad puppy faces at him before Jackson is forced to roll his eyes and demand cuddles.

 

Boyd cups his face and press their foreheads together before stepping back to let Erica and Isaac give him hugs, squeezing him tight.

 

“Oh, my poor pup,” Peter sighs when he sees him up close and takes Jackson from Derek to sets him down on his feet so he could fuss and fret over him properly. John gently ruffles his hair and Chris makes sympathetic noises as he and Peter assess him.

 

“We'll find a way to fix this, you have my word,” the hunter rumbles and Jackson tears up again.

 

“Thank you,” he mumbles, and is promptly pulled into the arms of his elders.

 

Derek starts to usher everyone downstairs.

 

“Puppy pile?” Scott pipes up.

 

“Puppy pile,” the Alpha answers gravely.

 

They're going to need it right about now.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

May quickly approaches.

 

In the end, it is a witch after all; an extremely powerful one by the looks of it, if she was able to convert Jackson back into a kanima just to get at his paralyzing venom as a rare secret ingredient for an archaic ritual summoning of the Devil himself. No big.

 

Hissing, Jackson finds himself waking up in a cage inside a basement under some old rickety cabin in the woods. He feels utterly drained and a little woozy after being duped into leaving the warded safety of the pack house and Hale territory when the others had left to investigate what turns out to be a series of false leads and dead ends, deliberately set up to lead them astray. The Sheriff, Chris and Peter had gone back to the Stilinski house to meet up with the Winchesters who had arrived in town earlier that day, and low and behold, they really are in fact Stiles' cousins – John's nephews.

 

Who'd have thought that the supernatural runs in the Stilinski family?

 

That had left Jackson alone in the den to fall prey to a hallucination which led him away from the protection of the pack only to be promptly knocked out and captured, carried away to be deposited in his tiny prison here.

 

He tries to tug on his pack bonds in the back of his mind to see if anyone could feel him and the response he gets feels...muffled, though he gets the inkling that they're no less frantic in looking for him.

 

The only bond he could feel clearly is the one connected to Stiles, and he all gets panicky reassurance from his pack mom.

 

So the pack is on their way to him. Good to know.

 

Grabbing hold of a couple of the bars, he starts to scope out the area but doesn't get much of a chance to look around when he senses two people sneak into the room.

 

He hears them whispering to each other before they split off to investigate, bodies tensed and quiet on their feet.

 

The burlier of the two with a beard covering his face finds him first. “Well, what have we got here?”

 

Jackson backs away into a corner, hissing warily. He bares his razor sharp teeth in warning.

 

“Whoa there, easy now, sweet pea. It's all right, I ain't gonna hurt ya,” he hears the warm tone say, a Cajun accent coloring his voice. At that, he blinks and relaxes, his body losing some of its coiled tension. It reminds him of Sugar Mama.

 

“Dean,” the man calls, “you better get over here, brother.”

 

Dean? As in Dean Winchester?

 

“Whatcha got, Benny?” the other man, a handsome roguish character with light brown hair and bright green eyes, makes his way over but stops short and stares when he sees Jackson. “Whoa, what the hell? Is that...?”

 

“Looks like a kanima if I'm not mistaken,” Benny answers, scratching his head under his sailor cap. “This one looks like he can be friendly though if he's treated right. Ain't that right, sugar?” The man addresses Jackson.

 

Jackson tilts his head inquisitively and chirrups.

 

“See? Sweet as pie,” Benny gestures, “Must have found a good Master. What did ya find, _cher_?”

 

“A cute little kitsune and the makings for a pretty powerful summoning,” Dean states and jerks a thumb over his shoulder to where he'd be snooping, “Tail of a kitsune and kanima venom are pretty potent ingredients. I think I saw blood from an undead werewolf, too, though hell if I know where this whack job got it from. Combined with the rest plus the incantations, this stuff could even summon Lucifer.”

 

Benny looks far too amused at the news that Satan could be summoned here in a small Californian town like Beacon Hills, assuming that they were still in Beacon Hills. Jackson wants to go home. “Is that right?”

 

Before Dean could retort, the witch returns and soon all hell breaks loose.

 

Pun intended.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

'Well, that was anticlimactic,' Jackson thinks as he hisses irritably, his tail swishing behind him on the floor to convey his thoughts while he sits back on his haunches next to the kitsune.

 

At first the two hunters seemed to have gotten the jump on the witch, but after a few moments it was pretty clear she wasn't one to be trifled with. Demon underlings is pretty serious business. Then again, the same could be said about Dean and Benny.

 

Luckily, a stray blast of magic from the witch had struck the lock of Jackson's cage just right and he was able to slip out unnoticed to assist the hunters in subduing her. With the two men using themselves as a distraction, it gave Jackson the opportunity to free the kitsune first from her prison, then sneak up from behind and slash the witch with his claws.

 

Apparently she wasn't immune to kanima venom and fell like a ton of bricks. When she hit the ground, her minions disappeared in a wisp of smoke as her concentration broke. Now she's spewing nonsense about a second Apocalypse that she'll unleash once she frees Lucifer from his cage after they secured her with wards, talismans and good old-fashioned rope.

 

The kitsune, Kira, zaps her with electricity to shut her up.

 

Jackson just wants to go home.

 

As if on cue, his Alpha bursts into the room in all his werewolf glory, snarling with jaws snapping as he looks around wildly for his omega with glowing red eyes.

 

Derek's ears go flat against his skull when Dean yelps, “Holy shit!” and automatically points his gun at the werewolf.

 

Benny bares his second set of teeth in warning with a hiss and Kira starts to charge herself up a little, but Jackson doesn't pay attention to them because just then, Stiles comes stumbling down the stairs with his Spark crackling and his enchanted baseball bat at the ready. The kanima makes a beeline straight for his Alphas, ignoring the two men who followed them in.

 

“Jax!” Stiles cries out in relief as Jackson runs into his arms and hugs him tight. The brunet drops his bat and hugs him back just as tight to his chest, before pulling away and checking his pup over, patting over his scales. “Are you all right? What happened? Did she hurt you?!”

 

Derek urgently snuffles his omega as he does his own inspection, and Jackson trills soothingly at them both which Stiles takes to mean that he's fine. “When we found out you were missing from the house – fuck, we were so worried about you...”

 

“You with the cavalry, Squirt?” Dean gruffs and holsters his pistol. Benny retracts his teeth. “Sorry to say you missed the party.”

 

Castiel hurries over to them with Sam in tow and inspects them for injuries.

 

“Well, hello to you too, hot wings,” Benny drawls, and Cas scowls at him without heat.

 

“Are you two all right?” Sam asks.

 

“Peachy keen, jelly bean. Ain't that right, _cher_?”

 

“No worse for wear,” Dean grabs the angel's hands to stop him from fussing, “Promise.”

 

“Dean!” Stiles turns and grins at his cousin, “Long time no see.”

 

Dean grins back, “No kidding. I didn't know you were going into the family business.”

 

“Trust me, I had no idea either. You and Sam have some explaining to do.” Stiles gives Sam a pointed look as well.

 

Both Dean and Sam share a look then raise their hands in surrender and shrug. “Guilty,” says Dean. He takes in the sight of his baby cousin sandwiched and smothered between 200+ pounds of fur, fangs, claws and scales. “But then again, so do you.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After teaming up with Chris Argent and the Hale pack to dispatch of the witch's numerous disciples and followers at various locations around Beacon Hills, it's Sam who had ended up calling Adam on their way to the house, and Castiel who had contacted his older brothers once they found out where Jackson was being kept and what the witch was planning.

 

Derek and Stiles had followed them inside when they all arrived on scene, the brunet and his tall moose of a cousin setting to work destroying all the magical booby traps and malevolent hexes they encounter throughout the house as they went.

 

The Sheriff and Deputy Parrish are waiting outside as back up with Danny, Lydia and Kevin, the young man's ancient tombs at the ready along with the pack's electronic bestiary at Danny's fingertips as a just in case, while Chris, Peter, and the rest of the pups have the house surrounded.

 

In a flash of light, the youngest Winchester shows up with his two angels in tow inside the basement, not a minute later after Sam and Cas finish making sure both Dean and Benny are still in once piece.

 

Stiles gapes at the newcomers while Derek's hackles are up and Jackson huddles closer to his Alphas, his tail lashing back and forth in agitation. 'Oh no, they're hot,' Stiles bemoans in his head.

 

Michael, whose vessel is pretty much the spitting image of Captain America, looks around the room in distaste of the décor and Lucifer, the suave sophisticated rogue he is, raises a dark eyebrow at the witch on the floor who gawps at them and stutters incoherently. “Well, I hear you've been busy, my dear. Flattering as your efforts may have been in trying to bring me back, as you can see you're a bit late to the party,” the Devil states before snapping his olive-toned fingers and engulfing her in flames to be sent to Hell.

 

“We'll let Crowley deal with it,” he sighs, and Michael nods his blond head in agreement. “Was that all, little brother?”

 

“Uh, yes, thank you,” Cas shuffles on feet, his unseen wings rustling awkwardly. It's still strange and surreal to interact with his brothers after they'd escaped the cage with Adam, the three now cohabiting with each other as if the first Apocalypse didn't almost happen.

 

“Wait, what about the rest of her cult?” Sam inquires and Lucifer waves a hand in the air dismissively, icy blue eyes glowing briefly.

 

“There, done. Crowley will have to deal with them as well. I can't be bothered,” says the Devil. He looks around and tsks. “What a waste.”

 

“Uh, what about Jackson?” Stiles pipes up, “Now that she's gone, will he be stuck in this form forever?” He turns and looks at his pup worriedly. Jackson chirps and nuzzles his face to comfort him.

 

“Hm.” Lucifer strokes his finely shaped goatee and narrows his eyes contemplatively before he saunters up to them. “At ease, wolf,” he says with a raised, devil-may-care (ha!) hand when Derek snarls at him, “I just want to take a closer look.”

 

Gingerly, he takes Jackson's head into his hands and stares into wary slitted yellow eyes.

He hems and haws before he apparently finds what he's looking for. “Ah, I see. No worries, young Spark. Your omega shall be fine once he gets some rest. The only difference now is that he'll be able to shift into this form at will when he's able to control it, as well as retain the ability to shift into a werewolf.” Lucifer then taps Jackson once on the forehead and there's suddenly a naked young man in place of Godzilla Jr.

 

Everyone but Jackson's Alphas and the angels look away awkwardly. Adam flushes and Sam is not much better. Dean's ears even turn a little red.

 

“Oh my,” purrs Lucifer, caressing his face, “Aren't you a pretty little thing.”

 

An attractive blush spreads across the bridge of Jackson's nose. The Devil himself just hit on him, what is his life.

 

“Luce,” Michael admonishes over Derek's rumbling growl, a stern look on his handsome face as he crosses his muscular arms, biceps bulging out enticingly in his simple white T-shirt.

 

“Jealous, darling?” Lucifer instigates.

 

“Hey, hey, hey! Hands off, Satan,” Stiles huffs and tugs on Jackson's arm.

 

Lucifer lets go of the omega, but not before one last provocative swipe of his thumb across Jackson's bottom lip.

 

The pup hides his embarrassed face against his pack mom's neck and whines, and Stiles quickly shrugs off his red hoodie to give him something to cover up with before coddling him to his chest protectively.

 

“Can we go home now?” he begs, and Derek takes that as his cue to scoop him up and carry him out of the house, Stiles and his bat in tow.

 

The others follow soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Lucifer's new vessel looks like David Gandy. Look him up, he's gorgeous (as much as I love RDJ, he's also my choice for comicbook!Tony Stark, hence the Cap ref for Michael. My fandoms are bleeding into each other. XD Also, CA:CW fakkin' wrecked me, so this is one of my many ways of coping). 
> 
> I took some liberties with my Supernatural guests as I'm not as familiar with this fandom, only what tumblr and fanfiction has taught me, plus a few episodes from random seasons. XD 
> 
> Did anyone miss me?! I'm so happy this stupid chap is finished. orz Thank you to those of you who stuck around so long with this damn fic and my sorry ass. Hope the next one doesn't take as long, but I make no promises. Sowwy. ;~;


End file.
